The Recreant
by jarienn972
Summary: It's been two years since our heroes returned from their Underworld adventures and while Emma is away from Storybrooke for a day, what appears to be an unprovoked attack and another seemingly unrelated crime lead to a series of unexpected discoveries that force her family to look at events from a different perspective. EDIT: Added epilogue that was a prior deleted section
1. Chapter 1

p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"strongRECREANT/strong/span/em em[rek-ree-uh nt]/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emstrongadjective/strong/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"em1. cowardly or craven./em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"em2. unfaithful, disloyal, or traitorous./em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emstrongnoun/strong/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"em3.a coward./em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"em4. an apostate, traitor, or renegade./em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emMonday, 7:10am/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Like nearly every other day, Killian Jones was awake with the sun, even if he was taking things a tad more leisurely than he normally would. Waking alone in their huge king sized bed wasn't something he particularly enjoyed and he would certainly have rather accompanied Emma to Boston, but she'd been insistent that it would be a quick overnight trip./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"em"It's just a parole hearing," she'd told him. "I had to track this guy down twice so the District Attorney's office wanted me to come in and testify about how big of a flight risk he is. I'll drive down Sunday night then the hearing in front of the parole board at the prison is at 10:30am. I'll be done and back home to Storybrooke in less than twenty-four hours and we can go have a nice, quiet dinner somewhere – just the two of us."/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He smiled to himself as he recalled her words from Friday afternoon when she'd gotten the phone call. It had been a while since they'd had a meal together somewhere that didn't have grilled cheese sandwiches and onion rings on the menu so he was all-too happy to oblige – whatever the occasion might be. However, regardless of what they might be celebrating tonight, he was still starting this Monday morning off on his own so he'd made the decision to head to the one place where he felt most at home when he was alone – the deck of the Jolly Roger. He held a pang of guilt that he'd been slightly neglectful of her as of late, so since he had a free morning, he'd conceded that he needed to spend a few hours with his second lady love before she turned on him – at least as much as a ship could./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"On most days, he would have followed Harbor Way down around the cannery to the docks, but a weekend water main break had closed down the road and even the accompanying sidewalks completely due to a large, gaping hole in the pavement that needed to be filled. Because of the mess, Killian had been forced to detour down an alley between the cannery and a building supply warehouse that was undergoing renovations. The alley ended in the same place at the harbor, but he hated walking this way because of all of the haphazardly scattered construction rubbish that constantly overflowed the provided container. He hadn't the foggiest idea what they were doing inside that warehouse building, but it certainly resulted in an overwhelming amount of refuse and this morning was no exception as he found himself having to step around randomly strewn bits of metal, wood and glass that littered the alleyway. He made a mental note to report this mess to the Sheriff later. Someone should most definitely get a citation for this hazardous chaos. Being the Sheriff's husband did have some advantages and maybe he'd just use that influence to speak to the workers or the foreman himself and remind them that the receptacle was provided for a reason./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"But as he reached the corner of the warehouse and the end of the disorderly alley, he was greeted by the sight of the harbor quay. With the sun low in the sky on this early morn, there were deep shadows cast against the concrete and asphalt, but he could already spy the sun-kissed sea that beckoned ahead with its gentle waves bobbing in eager anticipation. The destination was well worth the trip down that dreadful alley, he thought to himself – at least until he heard the startling sound of glass crunching behind him. He'd been fairly certain that he'd entered the alley alone, but perhaps one of those untidy warehouse workers had arrived to their employ early? Whether instinct or just curiosity, the unexpected noise had garnered his attention and he turned around slowly to see if another person had indeed joined him in the alley, but only the shadow of the building was visible. Perhaps he was just a tad paranoid this morning. Here he was getting jumpy over a dark alley and…/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He had just begun shift his attentions back to the harbor when his peripheral vision caught sight of the object careening toward him, but there wasn't enough reaction time to register it before the blow pummeled into the left side of his head. He felt the weapon crush into his skull above his ear, then tear an ugly gash across his left cheekbone as it followed through its arc. The torn skin was searing and spilling blood down over his jaw and neck, but he barely felt it over the intense throbbing inside his cranium. He staggered a few steps toward the direction he thought the attack had come from, glancing up to see a cylindrical wooden object coming toward him again. He was able to dodge the weapon this time and swung wildly toward his assailant with his hook, feeling some satisfaction as it came in contact with someone or something, but even that small victory was short-lived as the weapon came crashing down on his forearm at the spot where the leather brace that attached his hook tapered off. Even before the blinding pain registered, he knew the arm was broken; he'd felt the bones give way beneath the force of a blow so strong it had dislodged his hook and sent it clattering off somewhere into the shadows./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Already doubled over in pain and now defenseless, the rest of the attack was a blur. In those few seconds, his assailant had been relentless, striking him next across the middle of his back, the weapon finding little resistance from the thick leather of his jacket as it smashed the left side of his rib cage. He found himself unable to remain on his feet, dropping to his knees on the concrete gasping for air as crushed ribs caved inward toward his lung. Only his right arm seemed to still be functioning as he struggled against the blackness, not wanting to give in to unconsciousness. He forced his arm to press his torso up from the pavement, barely raising himself a few inches as he collapsed under the vicious final blow to the back of his head. There was no fighting the inevitable now as his unfocused eyes searched for one last glimpse of the sea before everything went dark./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Confident that Killian was finished trying to get back up, his attacker dropped the blood-stained weapon next to its victim then peeled off and shoved camel colored suede work gloves into the pockets of a dark wool coat. There was a slight sting as he shoved the coat sleeve up to examine the deep scrape inflicted by Killian's hook on his wrist. Somehow, the pirate had managed to catch him right between the glove and the sleeve, leaving a scratch that could potentially tie him to the assault, but unfortunately, the blasted hook was nowhere to be seen in the darkness of the alley so he'd have to leave it behind. Other things were more important right now as he greedily pawed through his victim's pockets searching for what he'd come for…/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Something he wasn't finding…/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Killian's attacker became more frantic – patting at and turning out pockets in a desperate hunt for something that wasn't being found. Frustrated and then rattled by a commotion nearby, the assailant finally ran off, leaving his victim unconscious and bleeding in the warehouse shadow. With so little traffic on the harbor at this hour, he slipped away unnoticed even as Killian's right eye flickered open for a split second to see a fleeting image of the person who'd just beat him so savagely, but there was no hint of recognition in his gaze and his eyelids fluttered closed yet again./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"7:33am/span/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Seems as though Pongo might be extra rambunctious this morning Archie thought as he tried desperately to keep 90 pounds of unruly Dalmatian under control. Pongo's typically short morning walk hadn't been nearly enough for him as he'd started tugging and pulling his master to express his desire for a longer stroll – at least stopping short of actually dragging Archie through the streets of Storybrooke as they made their way toward the docks./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""In the mood for some salt air today, are we?" Archie wondered as Pongo happily padded toward the quiet harbor in the soft light of dawn, but they hadn't gotten very far when something set off the usually sedate pooch making him start barking and once again, pull against the leash. "Pongo! What's gotten into you? Heel!" But the canine had no intention of obeying this time and swiftly yanked the leash so forcefully that it snapped loose from his collar. Still barking loudly the dog bounded down the harbor front toward the cannery and an old warehouse - leaving his master breathlessly attempting to keep up. "Pongo! Get back here!" Archie shouted as the huge Dalmatian disappeared into the shadows behind the warehouse. "Where are you going you crazy dog you?!"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Hurrying to catch up with the feisty animal, he suddenly realized that Pongo's incessant barking had now been replaced by a sad, quiet whimper./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Pongo?" he called to his pet, following the sounds of his cries around the corner to the alley on the far side of the warehouse, coming face to face with his dog standing guard above a dark figure laying prone in the street. "My goodness," Archie exclaimed, moving closer to the obviously injured man while Pongo crouched down, not ready to leave the wounded man's side. "What have you found here?" He lowered himself to a knee beside the man whose arms appeared to be awkwardly caught beneath his fallen body, noting the familiarity of his clothing – black leather moto jacket and black denim jeans. The victim's dark hair was matted with still-fresh blood and flecks of debris from the alley, but it was at the moment Archie lowered his hand to check the man's pulse and recognized the skull and dagger pendant that rested against the pavement under the man's chin that he finally put it all together and realized that the man lying on the ground beside him was none other than Killian Jones – Captain Hook himself./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Hook…?" Archie tried to call out to him as he found a weak pulse and confirmed that the wounded pirate was indeed still alive. "What happened to you?" he wondered, fumbling to locate his cell phone in his pant pocket. Finding it, he quickly dialed 911 and introduced himself to the dispatcher. "This is Dr. Hopper. I need an ambulance sent out to the alley between the cannery and the old supply warehouse off Harbor Way. I've found – well, Pongo found – an unconscious man with what appears to be multiple severe head injuries. You'd best send the Sheriff out too because this definitely wasn't an accident…"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"7:51am/span/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"As he eased the Sheriff's cruiser up to the entrance of the alley with lights flashing and siren blaring, David could see that the paramedics were already on scene tending to the assault victim that Archie had called about just a few minutes ago. Of course, despite the fact that their quick response would aid the victim, it also meant that the crime scene was going to be compromised. Such a frustrating dichotomy… Climbing out of the car, he spied Archie and Pongo standing just a few feet away and couldn't help but smile at the sight of Pongo keeping a very close watch on the paramedics as they aided the injured man – seemingly ready to pounce if they made a single wrong move. That dog was something else./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""David!" Archie shouted as he spotted the Sheriff arriving at the scene. "I'm glad you were the one responding to this call…"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Well, Emma's in Boston testifying before the parole board about a bail jumper she captured a couple of times in her previous life, so I'm the only one here to respond. Dispatcher said you stumbled onto an assault victim?" He led Archie back toward the patrol car where they could have a conversation out of the way and out of the earshot of the paramedics as they were carefully working to roll the victim onto his back./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""That was all Pongo," Archie said as he tried to keep a diligent eye on his dog while talking to David. "He broke free of his leash and went straight for the alley. He's quite an intuitive animal and must have sensed that something wasn't right. I'm just glad that Emma wasn't the one called in on this one though."/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Why do you say that?" David wondered. "Emma's not exactly squeamish…" Realizing that David hadn't been informed of the victim's identity, Archie tried to explain as quickly as possible why David was better equipped to handle this crime scene./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""David – that's your son in law lying over there. It's Hook. Someone beat him mercilessly and left him for dead…" David was stunned for a moment, but as the reality of the situation set in, he hurried down the alley as the paramedics were fastening a rigid white plastic collar around Killian's neck as they positioned him only a bright orange back board that would lessen the chances of further jarring any of the injuries during transport to the hospital, clearly suspecting that he likely suffered some sort of spinal or neck trauma from the attack. They had already started an IV and as he got closer, David could see that they'd bandaged a gash that covered most of the left side of Killian's face and had positioned an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""How is he?" David asked the paramedics nervously. "Quick synopsis and keep in mind that this is my daughter's husband…"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Sorry, Sheriff," one of the paramedics replied. "Someone worked him over good. Multiple blows to the head and torso with multiple broken bones. Can't tell if there's any spine or neck injury so we're not taking any chances."/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Good," David stated, pausing for a moment as his eyes locked on a blood stained wooden handle that looked like it had come from an ax or sledgehammer or something similar that lay just a few feet from where Killian had fallen. Whatever it actually was, David's gut told him that it was the weapon that Killian's attacker had used so he quickly scanned the rest of the vicinity to see if anything else caught his attention – noting a security camera mounted over the rear entrance to the warehouse./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""We're ready to head out, Sheriff," the other paramedic spoke up. David hadn't even noticed that in those few seconds, they'd gotten his son in law strapped to the immobilizing back board and loaded onto a stretcher. "You want to ride along?" David wanted to decline, wanted to give the crime scene his priority, but Killian was family. He just couldn't bring himself to say no and nodded as the paramedics loaded the stretcher into the waiting ambulance. David hoisted himself up and sat down on a bench behind the seat on the passenger side of the vehicle as the driver closed the doors behind them. He swallowed hard at the lump forming in his throat. How was he supposed to break this news to his daughter? She leaves town for a day to attend to business and her husband gets jumped in an alley and nearly beaten to death. Were those two things connected? Was it a crime of opportunity? Was Killian targeted or just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Too many questions to answer already and he hadn't even heard any of Emma's yet./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"This was not going to be a good day…/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"7:56am/span/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"She'd set the alarm on the motel room's digital clock to go off at 8am, but Emma had already been awake for a while, honestly finding it difficult to sleep at all. It wasn't that the motel's double bed was uncomfortable or that the room was too noisy. It was just lonely. She knew her early bird husband would already be awake and wanted so much to give him a call, but the flashing battery indicator on her phone was preventing that. In her haste to pack for the quick unplanned overnight, she'd somehow forgotten to grab the wall plug-in adapter for her phone's charging cable. She had the cigarette lighter adapter in the Bug, but it took a lot longer to charge the battery and she wouldn't have time before the hearing started at the State Prison. Of all the things to forget, she chastised herself. She could probably call him from the land line in the room, but Killian wouldn't recognize the number and wouldn't answer the call anyway so she decided it was a better idea to just send her family and friends a quick group text message to let them know she'd be incommunicado for a few hours./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Of course, sending the text wasn't going to make the situation any less embarrassing. She hated being that forgetful and fully expected a bit of playful ridicule from her husband when she got home that afternoon. And there was something else nagging at her brain that she couldn't quite place. She wanted to dismiss it as lack of sleep and her own sheer stupidity, but the thoughts drumming inside her head wouldn't go away. All she wanted to do was get through this hearing and she could get home to her family in no time. Only a few more hours…/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Wandering into the tiny bathroom, she pulled back the faded and well-worn beige shower curtain and turned the water on, letting it run until steam was billowing, hoping that she could wash away the ghosts that haunted her this morning./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Only a few more hours…/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"7:58am/span/em/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He'd been enjoying the relative calm of this Monday morning, relishing the peace and quiet after what had been one of the few uneventful weekends he'd seen since being cursed to this town. That was until the page came over the intercom and interrupted his nap. An ambulance was inbound with a critical patient. Multiple blunt force injuries. Confirmed cranial injury and possible cervical and spinal trauma. He'd initially suspected an automobile accident, but as he made his way to the Emergency entrance, he'd been informed that the victim had been found unresponsive in an alley near the harbor which sounded more like a mugging./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Time to start the morning with a challenge, Dr. Whale told himself as he arrived to the ambulance bay just as the team of paramedics were rushing their unconscious patient through the automatic doors. Before asking any questions, Whale took a moment to assess the patient. In deference to the probability of spinal damage, the patient was restrained on a sturdy resin back board with a cervical collar encircling his neck to help immobilize his head, covered completely with a charcoal grey blanket that had been pulled up to his neck. A blood-soaked stack of gauze compresses covered most of the left side of the man's face which appeared to have been slashed open from just below his eye socket to just above his left ear. An oxygen mask positioned over the man's nose and mouth further obscured the patient's face so all that Whale could really see from this angle was a patch of neatly trimmed whiskers along the man's jawline and a mop of unruly dark brown hair matted with dried blood, dirt and glass from the street where he'd been found./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""What exactly have we got here?" Whale finally asked of the paramedics as they brought the patient into the exam area and with the assistance of an orderly, transferred the wounded man – back board, blanket and all – onto the exam table while a nurse adjusted the extremely bright overhead lamp to give them better illumination of the patient's extensive injuries./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Victim was found unconscious about twenty minutes ago. Pupils were uneven and unresponsive. BP was 90 over 60 when we got to him and although it's low, it's remained fairly steady. Breath sounds on the left side are almost non-existent. Sounds like a lot of fluid in the lung."/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Let's get a portable X-ray in here," Whale barked orders to his team. "We'll need cranial and thoracic images. Need to get a cranial CT as well and get the OR prepped. Pretty sure we're gonna need it," he stated as he used his stethoscope to listen to his patient's heart and potentially damaged lung. "Do we have an ID on our patient?"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""It's Killian Jones," one of the paramedics responded as they headed back to their vehicle now that their job was completed./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Killian Jones? Captain Hook?" Whale asked incredulously as he paused to take a better look at what he could see of his patient's face, now seeing enough familiarity to recognize the man that lay before him. "Has anyone notified the Sheriff?"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Sheriff Nolan rode over with us," he was told and Whale snapped his head around to see an anxious David pacing the Emergency room floor. With his focus entirely on his patient's well-being, Whale hadn't even noticed that the Sheriff was standing there awaiting news from him, but it wasn't David that he'd been referring to./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""I meant Emma," Whale corrected his statement. "Has she been notified? This is her husband. We need to get in touch with her as soon as possible."/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""I'll find out, Doctor," the orderly replied, heading out of the exam room toward the admitting desk near the double doors that led into the hospital's main corridor./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Do we have those X-ray images yet?" Whale demanded shouting to everyone within earshot, the gravity of the situation fully weighing on him as he glanced up and met the watchful eye of the Sheriff./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Yes, Doctor," a nurse replied, handing him two dark X-ray film images which he held up toward the light, squinting and frowning at something that immediately caught his concern while he stepped to the backlit florescent panel on the wall and clipped the images to it. Flipping the switch to fully illuminate the two images, he was confronted with a lot he didn't like. The cranial image was bothersome showing two hairline fractures, but he still needed the CT scans to accompany the X-rays and knew he'd be revisiting these injuries later. Of more immediate concern was the thoracic panel where he could see jagged splintered sections of crushed rib cage jutting into Killian's lung and likely his spleen as well. A bright splotch on the image revealed extensive internal bleeding pooling around the site of the injury. On the very slight positive side, he didn't see any indication of injury to Killian's spinal column which at least was something encouraging./p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Let's get him into the OR before those splintered ribs cause any more trauma," Whale instructed. "We've got to get this internal bleeding under control." He unfastened the strap securing Killian's head to the orange plastic board, then carefully removed the cervical collar and set it aside. Killian stirred ever so slightly as the restraints were removed but before Whale and his team were able to get him into pre-op, a shrill alarm sounded as the cardiac monitor suddenly registered a flat line. The doctor instinctively began barking out demands for equipment and assistance as the wounded pirate slipped into cardiac and respiratory arrest. "Stay with me, Captain," he stated, speaking directly to his patient this time as one nurse handed him the defibrillator paddles while another cut open Killian's shirt. "Even if she's not a Dark One anymore, Emma would kill me if I let anything happen to you…"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"And he meant that./p 


	2. Chapter 2

_12:58pm_

More than four and a half hours later, Killian's condition was finally stabilized – at least for the time being. Whale had painstakingly pieced together what he could of the fractured section of the pirate's rib cage then repaired the damage to his left lung to the best of his ability. The lung had collapsed from the trauma, but it would re-inflate over time. His spleen had been another story with portions of it damaged beyond repair from bone fragments so Whale had made the decision just to remove it, knowing it would cause few adverse effects later. It was better for him to live without it than run the risk of it slowly killing him with tiny hemorrhages.

The bleeding within his chest cavity was now under control, but his head injuries were going to require close monitoring over the next few hours. As the doctor had expected, the CT scans showed deep bruises and some minor swelling beneath his skull. So far, there was only a slight trace of intracranial bleeding, but there were definitely troublesome spots that bore watching. Whale had alerted the Radiology team that they'd need hourly scans and he was to be paged at the first sign of any anomaly. Whoever had accosted Killian in that alley hadn't exactly been gentle and there was no doubt in his mind that this was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

Dr. Whale took a moment to check on his patient who'd just been moved out of recovery into Intensive Care, noting the work his surgical team had done to attend to Killian's other, less life-threatening wounds. The deep slash across his face had been closed with sutures and covered lightly with gauze bandages. They'd also uncovered an injury that had gone previously unnoticed as it had been less obvious – his blunted left arm was fractured just above the welts in his skin where he fastened the leather prosthetic device that he utilized to attach his namesake hook. The location and severity of the break made it appear to be a defensive wound, but it hadn't been discovered until they'd gone to remove the prosthetic and found the deep purple bruising beneath. Whale had instructed them to splint the fractured limb, but with Killian unconscious and facing a slow recovery, he wasn't overly concerned about fully immobilizing the break with a cast. There were far more worrisome things to focus on.

He didn't linger long in the room before heading to the nurse's station with was conveniently and purposefully situated in the middle of the floor surrounded by the patient rooms. He'd begun giving some instructions and making some quick notes on Killian's chart when he noticed David Nolan exiting the elevator, wondering if the Sheriff had been waiting around the hospital for the past few hours.

"Whale – just the man I need to see," David stated as he saw the doctor standing next to the island-like desk in the middle of the floor.

"Sheriff," Whale greeted him as David approached him. "I apologize for not acknowledging you earlier this morning. My attentions were otherwise occupied."

"No apologies necessary. I expected you to have been focused on treating my son in law, but now I've got a few questions for you."

"I assumed you might," Whale said, directing the Sheriff toward an unoccupied room where they could speak with more privacy. "Have you been in touch with your daughter yet? There's a note on the chart that stated my staff haven't been able to reach her."

"She's in Boston," David explained. "She sent everyone a text message this morning to tell us her cell phone battery was dead and she wouldn't be able to charge it until after the parole hearing she's testifying in. As far as I know, she still has no idea what happened because I'm still getting her voicemail myself."

"Hopefully, one of us will be able to speak to her soon. She needs to know what's going on."

"I agree and I intend to keep trying to get through, but for now – what's his prognosis?"

"Is this on or off the record, Sheriff?" Whale wondered so he could phrase his answers accordingly.

"Let's start with on the record," David replied, hoping the clinical answers would be easier to process.

"Condensed version – he's in extremely critical condition, suffering multiple head injuries, fractured ribs and a fractured arm. We just moved him out of recovery after surgery to repair those fractured ribs and the organ damage caused by splintered bone fragments that had caused severe internal bleeding. At the moment, he's doing better than I had expected, but it's way too early to make any long term speculation. Emma will likely be able to heal a lot of the injuries once she gets here, but my job is to keep him alive until then and we're keeping a close watch on those head injuries."

David had to take a moment to determine what to say next, finally deciding to stick to the evidence he'd collected. "I went back out to the scene after you took him into surgery and found a bloody ax handle not far from where Hook was found in the alley. Would that be consistent with his injuries to be the likely weapon?"

"Definitely consistent, although I can't say it with 100% certainty. All I know is that whoever did this knew what they were doing. He was fortunate…"

"Fortunate?" David scoffed. "Right… From what I saw out there, he didn't look all that fortunate. Just hoping that he managed to fight back and got a piece of his attacker."

"All of his clothing and personal effects were bagged by my team in case you needed them as evidence. I'll have someone fetch them for you, but as far as defensive wounds go, I didn't notice any scrapes or bruises that would indicate he'd attempted to fight off his attacker, but his broken arm could be considered a possibility if the arm was fractured in an attempt to defend himself."

"What about his hook? Anything to indicate that he struck his attacker with it?"

"He didn't come in with it," Whale informed him. "We assumed that either the paramedics removed it before transport or you'd retained it as evidence at the scene."

"Not that I'm aware of," David replied. "I certainly didn't take it, but I hadn't even noticed that it was missing. I'll have to head back out to the alley and see if I can locate it."

"It's certainly a possibility that it was displaced during the attack. If he swung at his assailant using the hook as a weapon, it could have been dislodged from the blow that fractured his arm."

"Which means that it's pretty likely that he got a piece of his attacker," David stated, done asking questions as Sheriff and now switching gears to be the concerned dad. "Off the record now, Whale. What are his chances?"

"It's just too early to say for sure, David," the doctor admitted. "He's in bad shape. This was sheer malice. Even if he survives, there could be long term challenges ahead."

"That's what I was afraid of," David sighed and as he started to say something else, but was cut off by an urgent page that blared over the loudspeaker.

"Dr. Whale – you're needed in ICU 1 Stat!"

David's face blanched as the realization hit him that the patient in ICU 1 was very likely his own son in law.

"I've got to go. Duty calls," Whale stated. "Please tell Emma to call me as soon as possible." The sheriff nodded in response as the doctor disappeared through a doorway just steps away. Whatever was happening in that room, it was clear that they'd wanted to advise Whale in the privacy of the room because the nurse certainly could have approached him in person. Probably meant it wasn't good news.

David remained there staring at the glass partition for a few minutes, fumbling through his pockets to find his cell phone. He didn't know if he was waiting there to try to catch a glimpse of what was happening or if he was just immobilized from the overwhelming emotion of all that had happened this morning, but either way, he finally forced himself to move and took a step toward the elevator as he retrieved his phone and re-dialed Emma's number once again.

"Emma – call me as soon as you get this," he said to her voicemail. "Killian's been hurt and we really need to talk to you. Just call me, okay?" David realized as soon as he disconnected the call that he'd referred to his son in law by his given name. He generally still referred to the pirate as Hook, but this time, his real name had slipped out. That snafu alone was sure to garner Emma's full attention. She'd definitely know that something serious was happening if her father was referring to her husband as Killian instead of Hook, but as her father, David couldn't think about that right now. The best thing he could do was to head back to the crime scene and take charge of the search for Killian's missing hook.

As he entered the elevator, he made the mistake of looking back toward the room to see Whale and two other hospital employees pushing a gurney through the double doors at the end of the corridor, presumably toward the operating room that was indicated by signage on one of the doors. He almost hit the button to re-open the elevator doors as they closed before him, but he stopped himself. There wasn't anything he could do to help the situation here. It was his job to track down Killian's attacker and just stay back so that Whale and his medical team could do theirs.

 _2:35pm_

All Emma could think of right now was that the hearing was almost over. She'd given her testimony hours ago, but was waiting for the District Attorney and the Parole Board to excuse her and then she'd finally be on her way back home. Sitting in the uncomfortable metal chair, she kept thinking about her stupid, currently useless cell phone back in her jacket pocket. She could just kick herself for forgetting to bring the charger. God, she felt so cut off without it. Who knew what was going on back in Storybrooke? Seems like every time she left town for a day, all hell broke loose so hopefully, the town would still be standing by the time she could finally call or text Killian or her parents.

A little before 3pm, she was finally allowed to leave with a brief thank you from the Assistant District Attorney.

"Ms. Swan, I mean, Mrs. Jones. Sorry, I keep forgetting about your name change," the ADA said as she approached. "Thank you so much for coming all the way down here for this hearing today. I knew your input from the perspective of a bounty hunter, skip tracer – whatever you preferred be called, would be so valuable to keep this guy behind bars."

"I suppose no one would know how much of a flight risk he was better than the bondsperson who had to track him down twice," Emma smiled, being polite, but really wanting to get out of this building soon.

"I'm sure you're anxious to get home so I won't hold you up any longer," the ADA said. "Sorry about all the delays, but at least you should be able to get back to Maine before dark."

"I hope so. I'm looking forward to a very special evening with my husband."

"Well, then have a safe drive and please accept the thanks of the entire District Attorney's office."

The actual parole decision really didn't affect her, but she'd done her job, reminding the system of the inmate's flight risk. If she'd had to chase him down twice, odds were he'd try again, but that was now put behind her as she hurriedly navigated the maze of corridors back to the entrance where she could collect her checked personal items. That process took another ten minutes – not that she was counting, but she was so relieved when she was back inside her yellow bug ready to start the drive. She'd lived in Boston long enough to know that traffic was already going to be horrific so she estimated that it was probably going to be three or four hours to get back home with at least an hour of that spent getting through Boston proper.

As soon as had she settled herself back behind the steering wheel, she went fishing for the cigarette lighter charger and got her phone plugged in. She knew it would be a couple of minutes before the battery had enough power to actually turn it on, but it was comforting to know that she'd soon be back in touch with reality after being out of sorts for nearly 24 hours. Rather than stay in the State Prison parking lot while she waited, she decided to put a few miles between herself and the depressing institution. A little donut shop a few miles away caught her attention and she eased the car into their parking lot figuring she'd get some decent coffee for the drive. She made a quick trip in selecting a glazed donut to munch on and a large cup of strong black coffee, then for a few minutes after her purchase, she sat in her car outside the shop figuring she should probably check and respond to any messages before hitting the road.

And almost immediately, she wished she hadn't.

There were three voicemail messages and about half a dozen texts. Most of the text messages were unimportant – quick responses to the message she herself had sent out that morning, but one from her father was a bit worrisome. It simply read _Call Me ASAP_. That could mean any number of things coming from her father so she decided to wait a moment before calling him to see what the voicemail messages were about. The first message was disturbing enough. It had come in at 8:15 that morning – only a few minutes after she'd sent out the text to her family and powered her phone off.

"Mrs. Jones, this is Nurse Carter from Storybrooke Hospital. We need to speak with you urgently. Please call us back at your earliest convenience." The nurse went on to leave a contact phone number, but Emma had already tuned it out. Storybrooke Hospital? Why were they calling her so early on a Monday morning? Combined with her father's urgent text, she knew something was wrong, but she didn't know exactly what it was until she listened to the second message. It was from her father and he'd left it about two hours ago:

"Emma – call me as soon as you get this. Killian's been hurt and we need to talk to you. Just call me, okay?"

 _Killian's been hurt._

Those three words echoed in her ears. Her father called him Killian, not Hook. His use of her husband's given name was startling, setting off every warning alarm in her brain that this was really bad and the glazed donut she'd just eaten was beginning to churn her stomach. But now she'd reached the last message and it sent chills down her spine. It had been left by Dr. Whale just a matter of minutes after her father's call.

"Emma, Dr. Whale here. I'm not able to go into a great deal of detail over the phone, but you need to know that we're taking your husband in for emergency surgery for the second time today. I would have preferred to wait until you got here, but the bleeding inside his cranium has gotten too severe. His condition is extremely critical and we need to speak with you as soon as possible. I know you're out of town, but please call me as soon as you're able." He left a different call back number than the one the nurse had provided so it was likely his direct number.

Now she was distressed. She was still hours away from home and Killian needed her.

Her father's words – Killian's hurt.

Whale's words – condition extremely critical. Bleeding inside his cranium?

What the hell had happened? She quickly tapped the speed dial button for her father's cell phone and waited anxiously for him to answer.

"Emma! I was hoping you'd call back soon!"

"Dad – I got all of the messages – from you, from the hospital…What's happened?"

"There's still a lot we don't know, but what I can tell you is that Archie found Hook in an alley by the docks this morning while walking Pongo. Someone had beat the hell out of him and left him there by the warehouse."

"What?!" Emma exclaimed, wondering how this could have happened and who might have done it as she tried hard to maintain her composure in the busy donut shop parking lot. "Any idea who attacked him?"

"No idea. All that has turned up so far is a grainy video from a security camera at the cannery showing someone following him around dawn. The angle of the camera didn't catch the actual assault and there just wasn't enough detail on the black and white image to make out a face or any other distinguishing feature."

"Whale's message said they were taking Killian for emergency surgery – something about bleeding inside his skull, but he didn't give a lot more details. Can you tell me what the hell happened to him?"

"Looks like the attacker hit him multiple times with an ax handle. There's no way to know for sure, but I'd guess at least three or four pretty vicious blows to his head and body. You'd have to talk to Whale to get more specifics, but suffice it to say, it's pretty bad."

"I knew it was going to be bad as soon as I heard you call him Killian," she said with a slight sniffle. She was trying hard not to cry while in view of so many other customers, but a single tear found its way down her cheek.

"I was afraid you'd pick up on that," he said, hearing the painful crack of her voice. "He's in good hands. Whale wouldn't dare risk your wrath."

"I know. I'm just struggling a little bit with the irony that I'm entrusting Dr. Frankenstein to perform surgery on my husband's brain…"

"Yeah, I guess I can understand how that would be a bit unnerving…"

"Okay, I've got to get on the road. I'm still several hours away. Call me back if you hear anything new. I'm going to see if I can reach Whale and get any more details out of him."

"Okay. Just drive safe. We'll see you in a couple of hours."

 _3:22pm_

What David hadn't shared with his daughter was that while he was speaking to her, he was standing next to the exact spot where Archie and Pongo had found her husband that morning. With some assistance from Leroy and a few of the other dwarves, he'd ordered the entire alley sealed off from Main Street to the furthest corner of the warehouse where it met the harbor front and the vicinity remained taped off as a crime scene. Until he'd had a chance to search the whole area for evidence, he was keeping the alley cordoned off and at this moment, the most important evidence he sought was a missing steel hook.

In the midday sun, the shiny steel should have been an easy find, but it was proving to be far more difficult a task than he'd anticipated. Common sense dictated that if he wasn't seeing any sunlight reflecting off of polished metal, the hook must be obscured by something which meant it was likely closer to the warehouse than in the middle of the alley or along the harbor so he was concentrating search efforts around the building itself. He also was well aware that despite not knowing much about the locking mechanism that was used to hold the hook in place, it had taken a substantial amount of force to dislodge it so he was trying to visually imagine how far it could have been thrown when Hook's arm was struck and fractured. Unless the assailant had taken it with them, it had to be close by.

His efforts were also being hindered by the alley itself. With so much construction going on both on the neighboring street and at the warehouse, the whole area around the back entrance of the warehouse where the attack had occurred was littered with debris and piles of broken and worn out equipment that had long ago overflowed the dumpster. It was in one of these junk heaps that Killian's attacker had found the ax handle that had been their weapon of opportunity, but if the missing hook had found its way into one of these piles, it was going to take a while to locate.

Knowing it wasn't going to be able to cover the entirety of the crime scene, David and the dwarves had each taken a section of the alley around the warehouse to search. Each of them knew that finding this particular piece of hardware could be the key to finding the person responsible for the malicious attack. It was still a lot of real estate to search, but hopefully, they'd be able to find it before Emma returned from Boston.

"Anything yet?" David asked as he tucked the phone away, still replaying his conversation with Emma in his head.

"No sign of a hook," Leroy replied gruffly, "but I'm gonna need a tetanus shot after digging through all of this rusty stuff."

"I'll make sure we get those provided," David replied. "And if you see anything else that seems out of place, let me know. Anything could be a clue as to who attacked Hook."

"How did someone manage to get the drop on the pirate?" Leroy wondered, well aware of Hook's fighting skills. The man certainly wasn't an amateur so someone getting close enough to catch him completely off guard was a bit unnerving. Would someone else be the next target?

"We don't know. The warehouse security camera on this side of the building was out of commission so there's no video of the actual attack, but a camera over at the cannery caught a grainy image of someone following Hook, so it's likely that he was targeted specifically. So far, no witnesses have come forward and we can't exactly ask Hook because he's still unconscious."

"Is he going to make it?" one of the dwarves asked knowing that the pirate was part of Charming's family and in many ways, part of their own extended family through their long relationship with Snow White.

"We don't know that yet either," David sighed. "Last I heard, he was in surgery again so it's too early to say. For Emma's sake, I sure hope so though."

"Emma knows?" another dwarf asked.

"Yes," David responded. "She does now. She's on her way back from Boston, but I had a chance to talk to her. I'd just like to have a lead on a suspect by the time she gets back here."

"She's gotta be a mess," Leroy stated in his unique, matter of fact manner.

"Emma's tough. She seemed to handle the news fairly well, but she's got a long drive ahead of her – a lot of time for her thoughts to get away from her, but they have been through far worse. I just can't imagine that Hook didn't get in one good defensive strike against his attacker…"

"We're looking…," Leroy reminded him. "We're looking…"

David shook his head with a little half smile as he switched on his flashlight and began searching his chosen area around the steps leading up to the warehouse's unused - and currently barricaded - rear entrance door. Sheets of plywood and plasterboard were leaned against the metal railing which had certainly seen better days before the salt-laden sea air had rusted it nearly through. How it was even able to support the weight of the plywood was a mystery, but one for another day he reminded himself. Of course, he was more interested in the pavement around and beneath the stairs than the rickety steps themselves. The asphalt here was covered in a scattering of broken glass which sparkled in the beam of the flashlight. Rusty nails, old screws and an assortment of other odds and ends were also strewn about. Lots of little metal objects, including many David couldn't identify, but none was as shiny as the one he sought – until something reflected back a flash of light.

He passed the beam back over to where he'd seen the reflection, and once again, a bright glint of light shone back at him from the surface of something partially beneath the staircase and partially beneath the building's foundation.

"I think I've got something over here!" David shouted. "Someone bring me another light!"

All too eager to stop digging through the refuse, Leroy quickly produced a flashlight and hurried over to the stairs where David was keeping his own light focused on an object just beyond the stacks of plywood.

"You see something?" Leroy asked as he trained the beam of his flashlight toward the same spot and there was without a doubt a shiny, most likely metal object poking out from a space beneath the crumbling concrete block foundation.

"Think you can reach that?" David asked the dwarf.

"There's a lot of junk over here, but let me see…," Leroy frowned as he pushed a broken slab of sheet rock out of his path while keeping the flashlight aimed at the object. "Looks like the right shape," he stated as he crouched down next to the stairs and reached around a sheet of plywood into the opening with his gloved hand. Knowing it could be valuable evidence he gingerly grasped it with only his thumb and forefinger and pulled it free. "Sheriff, we have a hook," he stated as he held the shiny metal up for David to see, then as he stood back up, he passed the hook to the Sheriff who treated it with the same degree of caution.

It was unquestionably Killian's missing hook and as David gave it a quick preliminary examination under the flashlight, there appeared to be a smear of dried blood across the sharpened point.

"Looks like our pirate did get a piece of his attacker after all," David smiled, thrilled to have one little bit of positive news to take back to his daughter. "Now we just need someone to match it to."


	3. Chapter 3

_7:01pm_

Situated on the third floor, Storybrooke Hospital's tiny Intensive Care Unit was just steps away from the elevator. Designed for the care of no more than four patients needing special care and round the clock monitoring, the unit had its own dedicated nursing staff and even its own operating room. While it didn't see a lot of traffic - even with the town's isolation and often torrid developments - it was a necessity in a magical town where it wasn't exactly possible to airlift patients to another facility. They'd had to adapt to take care of their own and currently, Killian was the only patient they were tending to. He'd come out of surgery only a few minutes earlier so the team was scurrying about, darting in and out of the doorway off to the left of the nurse's station that was positioned in the middle of the floor, right in front of the elevator doors as they parted for Emma.

Her heart was heavy with uncertainty and she was both physically and mentally tired as she glanced around for Dr. Whale, tempted to poke her head into the room she knew her husband occupied, but she resisted – for now. She'd spoken to the doctor not fifteen minutes ago and he'd implored her to meet him as soon as possible, again not really getting into a lot of detail. Just the mention of the words "Intensive Care" gave her chills and she wasn't feeling any less uneasy as she stood here now, slightly nauseated by the overwhelming scent of disinfectant in the air, even as she caught sight of Dr. Whale strolling toward her.

"Emma," he greeted her while tugging off a pale blue surgical cap and tossing it into a bin labeled soiled linens. "Why don't we talk over here?" He directed her toward an almost claustrophobic waiting room off to the right of the elevator which was spartanly furnished with only a battered black leather sofa and a scarred wooden armchair that appeared to have been borrowed from someone's office (sometime back in the mid-1990's maybe).

She nodded, moving slowly and apprehensively as she awaited Whale's assessment of her husband's injuries. She lowered herself onto the sofa and steeled her composure, finally looking up at Whale to make eye contact as he sat down in the chair across from her. If she hadn't already been so upset, she might have been distracted by his ridiculous spiky platinum hair, but she fought to remind herself that she was here for his medical expertise, not for a fashion lecture.

"Okay," she began, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for all that he would have to say. "You wouldn't really tell me anything over the phone. I know this must be bad or you wouldn't be so evasive."

"I wasn't intending to be evasive," Whale replied sincerely. "I simply intended to have this conversation in person and in private."

"Then be honest with me – how serious is this?" Her question was blunt, but that was not unexpected.

"Let's just say that it's a good thing that your husband is so hard-headed," he said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but the expression on her face made him change his approach immediately. "Someone gave him quite a beating."

"That much I already know," she stated, done with the small talk. "I need you to fill in the parts I don't know."

"Emma, I don't know if he's lucky or just stubborn, but he's holding his own. My best estimation is that he suffered at least four blows from his attacker's weapon. Do you want me to spell out what I believe happened?" Emma nodded her response, knowing that this was going to be painful to hear, but she wanted as much detail as he could provide. "Okay, then… While I can't be 100% certain of the order the strikes were delivered, my guess is that the first blow caught him completely off guard because it was the most indirect. It caught the left side of his head, causing the laceration across his cheekbone and a hairline fracture of the temporal bone above his left ear. The second injury may have been a defensive one as he may have either struck back at his attacker or brought his arms up to protect his head. Either way, his left forearm took the full force of that blow –fracturing both bones just above the leather prosthetic device he wears.

"He may have been semi-conscious and already falling down or just too weak to retaliate at this point because the other injuries were to his back – one across the middle of his back that fractured several ribs and sent fragments of those broken ribs into his lung and spleen causing massive internal bleeding. The last blow struck the back of his skull causing a severe concussion, a second hairline fracture to his skull and bleeding within the cranial cavity. For the moment, the intra-cranial bleeding has ceased and the fluid was drained, but we're going to have to keep a very close watch on it over the next 24-48 hours as well as the swelling."

Emma sat there motionless for a moment, trying to absorb it all – her emotions raw as she pictured Killian being on the receiving end of the assault Whale had just so graphically described. The assailant had to have been strong and fast to have pulled off such as brutal attack with little or no retaliation from Killian. She couldn't imagine him not fighting back – unless he wasn't physically able to.

"Were there any defensive wounds aside from the broken arm?" she wondered. "Anything that would indicate that he fought back against his attacker?"

"Your father asked me the same question and my answer is still the same – nothing that I observed. There were no bruises or scrapes that would indicate he'd struck someone. All we found was gravel and debris from the alley."

"What about on his hook? If he did take a swing at his assailant with his left arm, maybe he landed a blow before his arm was broken?"

"You'll have to check with your father on that one. Killian didn't have the hook on him when the paramedics brought him in. Last I spoke to your father he was still searching for it at the scene." Emma's eyes drifted downward toward the grey floor tiles as she struggled to maintain her focus, but she finally had to relent and let the frightened wife slip out from behind the tough as nails sheriff and savior façade.

"What are his chances?" she asked after a short, uncomfortable silence.

"Honestly, Emma, it's really too early to say. The surgery to repair his broken ribs early was successful as was the second procedure to drain the blood and fluid that was building up inside his cranial cavity, but there's still a great deal of swelling that we're trying to alleviate with medication, and if that doesn't work, he might need additional surgeries to keep that under control. Once all of the hemorrhaging and swelling are completely stopped, we'll be better able to assess if there will be any permanent damage. We'll also know a lot more once he regains consciousness." She couldn't fight back the tears any longer as the reality of what Whale meant sunk in – they were concerned that Killian might have suffered permanent brain damage. Whale found a box of tissues on the window sill behind him and handed it to her without judgement.

"Okay, then - I need to go in there and heal him," she stated as she wiped her eyes with a wadded up bit of tissue, trying hard not to completely lose her composure. "You know my magic is capable of healing his injuries."

"Yes, I'm well aware of your magical abilities, but I'm going to warn you to try to resist some of that temptation."

" _Why_?" she wondered, taken aback by the thought that Whale would suggest allowing Killian to continue suffer if he didn't need to. "Why put him through all of this pain?"

"Because there's no way to know if it would even work," the doctor replied honestly. "It's one thing to heal a broken bone or mend a cut. It's altogether different to tamper with the intricacies of the human brain. We've never had a situation like this before – someone with your particular light magic who can heal and we don't know what effect that magic would have. I don't know that it's a gamble you want to take."

She paused to reflect on his words, knowing deep down in her gut that he was right. If she took a gamble with magic and something went wrong, she knew she'd never be able to forgive herself. "I guess I understand," she replied with a deep sigh. "Can I at least see him now?"

"For a few minutes," Whale agreed. "He's not really ready for visitors, but since you are the Sheriff and I really don't want to get tossed across a room again, I'll make an exception this time. I will warn you that he's going to look frightful and I'm going to remind you about giving into the temptation. If you want to heal his more minor injuries, I won't stand in your way, but please, just remember what I said."

"I do understand," she repeated. "Right now, I just want to see my husband."

"Of course," Whale smiled, right before he asked something that cut straight to her heart. "By the way, have you told him yet?"

"Told him what?" she started to say, then stopped abruptly as she realized that he meant the test results he'd shared with her a few days earlier. She'd planned to share that news over dinner when she'd returned from Boston – dinner plans that they'd had for tonight. She'd wanted it to be a special occasion, but now… "No, he doesn't know yet. The Boston trip got in the way."

"Then tell him now. Good news like that can go a long way toward helping him recover," Whale insisted. She forced a weak smile onto her face at the thought of it. Just one more thing she hadn't wanted to think about right now… She shouldn't have waited.

Dr. Whale called the two nurses out of the room so that Emma could have a few minutes of privacy – well, at least what little privacy could be afforded by a glass partition and a fabric curtain. She went in knowing that the harsh, far too bright artificial lighting would amplify and exaggerate all of Killian's visible wounds, but Whale definitely had not lied about how awful he was going to look. She knew she was holding her breath as she took her first look at him lying silently on the narrow bed just a few feet in front of her. A crisp white cotton sheet and a lightweight beige blanket covered the lower half of his body, the covers tucked lightly around his waist and legs so as not to drag or get caught in the wheels of the mobile hospital bed should he need to be moved quickly. His exposed skin looked pallid under the harsh florescent lights, further emphasizing the deep, dark contrast of his bruises. A shiver found its way down her spine as she recalled the last time seen him this still and even two years later, the unwanted memory dampened her eyes. He barely resembled the man she knew. This man looked fragile and sullen, but at least his fighting spirit remained. Whale had staunchly reminded her how fortunate he was. He'd survived two surgeries already, had been given three units of blood to replace what he'd lost and she now knew the uneasy feelings she had experienced that morning likely stemmed from the moment he flat lined on the emergency room exam table before being successfully resuscitated and rushed into surgery. She should have been here…

She struggled to find a place to touch him where she wouldn't disturb some sort of wire or tubing. They were just everywhere – connecting him to all sorts of machines and monitors. Of course she knew that they were there to help keep him alive, but it was hard not to focus her attention on them. There was some sort of thin rubber tube taped to his right nostril and another extended out of the corner of his mouth. Tubing from the IV followed the curve of his right forearm to his wrist and hand where the needle was inserted into a vein and secured with tape. She knew there were other tubes in places she couldn't see – some in places she didn't want to think about, but with the severity of his injuries, it was fully expected.

Almost listlessly, she allowed her gaze to drift down to his chest which was unexpectedly mostly bare except for the wide swath of gauze that wrapped most of his midsection, covering the site of the earlier surgical incisions. Through the semi-transparent bandaging, she could see the deep purple bruises along his left side where one of the attacker's blows had struck him with such force that his rib cage had splintered and drove bits of bone into his lung. Small specks of dried blood stained the gauze in spots where it had seeped around the sutures.

It took more strength than she thought she'd need to allow her eyes to return to his face as the sight of his injuries brought back far too many painful memories of seeing him battered and beaten in the Underworld. The only difference was that this time, the torture had been inflicted on his living body by some unknown assailant rather than at Hades' bidding. There was an angry crimson gash across half of his face that had been stitched back together and bandaged, but the dark, almost black bruises peeked out from beneath the stained cotton fabric. In fact, most of his head was wrapped with gauze bandages that left only tufts of his dark hair visible along his neck and at the crown of his head. It was no secret that those bandages covered the tiny holes Whale had been forced to bore through his skull to access and drain a pocket of blood and fluid that had formed between his skull and the outer layer of his brain. A hematoma - she remembered what it was called and because of it, he had a scattering of small electrodes and wires positioned on his scalp so they could monitor his brain activity for any indication of trouble.

But it was those little electrodes that scared her the most – more than anything else he'd suffered because they were the symbol of the full gravity of their situation. This wasn't a case where someone had struck him to merely incapacitate him. Whoever had attacked her husband had done so with such brutality that the intention had clearly been to kill him, but why? What had been the motivation? Did they have to be worried that the would-be killer would return to finish the job?

"Who did this to you?" she asked aloud, not really caring if Whale or any of the nursing staff overheard. "Why did they do this to you?" Finding a spot to squeeze in next to his leg on the narrow hospital bed, she gently placed her hand atop his, her index finger tracing the edge of the vinyl identification bracelet that encircled his wrist. Her thumb grazed over his fingers, so strangely void of his ever-present rings. "Just who did you piss off this time, Killian?"

Unwilling to just sit there and stare at his visibly painful injuries, she had to do something to help – even if it didn't seem like much. She'd keep the promise that she made to Whale, but she was determine to do what she could. Her left hand still resting on his, she unfurled the fingers of her right and held them just inches above his fractured and splinted left arm, allowing the magical glow that emanated from her palm to mend those bones, then she passed her hand above his torso, repairing his damaged rib cage and completing the work that Dr. Whale had begun earlier in the operating room. When she was finished, she allowed herself the faintest little smile of satisfaction as she watched the bruises fade away. It really wasn't much, but she felt a little less guilty knowing that when he woke, he'd at least be spared some needless pain. She'd seen him suffer with broken ribs before so in the long run, this was better. She only wanted to spare him some of the agony and she ached to heal the rest. Not certain right now if she could isolate her magic just to the superficial wounds on his face, she left the nasty gash and bruises on his cheek alone, even if they did look horrific.

"I wish I could do more for you," she told him as she tenderly caressed the unscathed right side of his face, her thumb lightly brushing the scruff along his jawline. "You're on your own for the rest, but we're going to get through this and we are going to find out who did this." Knowing that Whale was likely going to kick her out of the room soon, she thought about the second part of her conversation with the doctor. With no certainty that Killian could even hear her in his comatose state, she had to go on pure faith. "You had better pull through this because there's no way I'm raising a Jones baby by myself."

There – she'd said it. Maybe he'd heard her. She hoped he'd heard her and now knew that he was going to be a father – well, in another eight months or so. While she hadn't expected his eyes to miraculously spring open and have him be completely healed, it wasn't the emotional, celebratory moment that she'd envisioned when she revealed that they were expecting. Instead, there were only the bleeps and blips from machines and all she herself could manage were tears.

She caught a glimpse of Dr. Whale heading her way in her peripheral vision and her heart sank just a bit at the knowledge that she'd have to leave her husband's side. Standing back up, she allowed herself to stoop over briefly to plant a scant kiss on an uninjured spot on his forehead. "I'll be back later," she promised, not really wanting to leave, but not in the right mindset to engage in a battle with Whale either. It was already after 8pm, so it was doubtful that the doctor would allow her to come back tonight, but she'd see what she could negotiate once she regained her composure. No matter what, she planned to stay close by. "You hang in there for me, okay?"

With a last squeeze of his hand, she stepped away from the bed and tried to stem the flow of tears as she slowly made her way out of the room, heading back toward the elevator. She'd remembered seeing vending machines downstairs on the main floor and even though caffeine wasn't really on the approved list of substances right now, she really needed coffee to get her through what was shaping up to be a long night. She stepped into the waiting elevator and decided she had better check the messages on her phone to make sure she hadn't missed out on any more important news. Apparently, most of her family and friends already knew to give her some space as there was only one quick "I love you, Mom" text from Henry and a missed call from her father. When the doors parted on the first floor, she made her way down to the guest lounge between the Emergency entrance and the hospital's main lobby before she called David back. She needed her coffee first she decided as she quickly deposited a handful of coins into the machine before pressing the speed dial button next to "Dad" on her contact list then made her selection for black coffee as she waited for him to answer. She wanted the strongest brew she could get right now.

"Emma – glad you called back," David's voice greeted her. "Are you back in Storybrooke?"

"Hi, Dad and yes, I'm back. Got here just about 7 and came straight to the hospital. What's up and can it wait?" she wondered as she retrieved the steaming cup of brackish liquid from the dispenser. The dark beverage didn't smell much like coffee, but at this point she didn't even care.

"I'm sorry to bother you. How's Hook doing?"

"As well as can be expected right now," she replied. "I just left him a few minutes ago."

"So then you haven't been home yet?" David asked, a rather unusual question for him to ask right now.

"No," she responded with a new degree of concern. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I got a call a few minutes ago at the station - one of your neighbors reported lights on inside your house and the front door was standing open. I came over to check it out and the whole place has been tossed."

"What?!" she exclaimed. "Someone broke into our house? Really?" This day just kept getting better… "Someone beats the hell out of Killian and someone else breaks into our house on the same day?"

"The two incidents could be related," David suggested.

"That's what worries me. Does it look like a robbery or does it seem like they were looking for something?"

"Personal, not professional opinion – I think they were searching for something. They didn't take any of the electronics including your laptop which was sitting right out in the open on the kitchen counter."

"What the hell is going on today?" she sighed, taking a sip of the coffee and immediately regretting it. The so-called beverage was simply too disgusting to drink. "Ugh…are you still at our house?"

"Yes. You want me to stick around until you get here?"

"Please. I'll be there in a few minutes. I've gotta stop and get some decent coffee first. This is going to be a long night…"

 _8:18pm_

Emma's stomach was churning as she reluctantly climbed her own front steps onto the porch, immediately seeing the gouge marks around the deadbolt and doorframe where someone had pried open their front door. How had her neighbors not seen that earlier? It had never really crossed her mind that they'd need to have a security camera installed – assuming that the home of the Sheriff and Captain Hook would be off limits to burglars. But then this didn't seem like a robbery attempt.

She scanned everything in her sight, trying to take note of all of it before she took a step through the doorway into their parlor. The door had clearly been forced open, likely with a crowbar. Deep, uneven gouges in the wood indicated that the criminal had been in a hurry – not really caring if they left behind tell-tale evidence of the break in. Amateur, she thought. Someone with more experience wouldn't have entered through the front door in broad daylight or would have simply smashed the narrow sidelight window and reached inside to open the lock. Again, pointing to this not being a robbery.

Inside their home, furniture had been overturned and haphazardly searched, but while a few items had been broken, nothing valuable appeared to be missing - at least not at first glance. As her father had mentioned, her laptop was still sitting on the kitchen counter, although now next to the sink instead of beside the coffee maker where she'd left it. Cushions from the sofa and chair had been tossed onto the floor, but the television mounted on the wall was untouched. She could feel her cheeks reddening, burning with increasing rage, not only because someone had violated their home, but also at the fact that her gut was telling her that this was undoubtedly connected to the attack on Killian that morning. She had no way of knowing which incident had occurred first – the assault or the break in – but nothing was going to convince her that the crimes weren't related. No way these two events were just a coincidence. She'd long ago learned not to believe in those anyway.

Emma was so hyper-focused on her visual inspection of the first floor of her house that the sound of a creaking floorboard on one of the stairs momentarily startled her. She swirled her head around to make eye contact with her father as he descended the stairway from the second floor and found herself having to push back a little shiver as her mind decided to remind her that is should have been Killian coming down those stairs to greet her home from Boston, not her father bringing her into an active crime scene.

"Sorry, Emma," David apologized. "Didn't mean to startle you. I didn't hear you come in or I would have come downstairs sooner." He didn't realize how awkward his words sounded until they'd already spilled out of his mouth. "I'm sorry – that didn't quite come out right."

"It's really okay, Dad. I should have let you know I was here. I just got caught up trying to visualize the way it's supposed to look so I can try to figure out what whoever broke in here was looking for. I'm guessing the rest of the house looks pretty much the same?"

"Essentially. Lots of things moved around and upended but valuables seemingly untouched," he explained. "I just don't really know where you and Hook normally keep things to get an idea if anything is actually missing."

"Give me a few minutes to take a mental inventory and I'll let you know," she replied as she made her way across the parlor toward the stairs. David caught her upper arm as she brushed past him, making her pause and look directly at her father. "What?"

"Are you okay with this?" he wondered. "It can wait until later if you need a break. You've had a lot thrown at you today."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "If I can figure out what they were looking for, it'll be a huge step toward solving this mystery and hopefully find out not only who destroyed my home but also who beat Killian half to death."

"Sorry this mess had to pull you away from the hospital. At least Whale was nice enough to let you see him."

"It's okay," she sighed, knowing she really didn't mean those words. She would much rather still be at Killian's side instead of investigating a crime at their own home. "And yes – I got to spend a few minutes with him. He's a horrific mess right now and there's only so much I can do to help him."

"You couldn't heal his injuries?"

"Not all of them," she stated with a slight crack in her voice. "Whale asked me not to try healing Killian's head injuries and I do understand why. What if I reset something in his neural pathways that gets mixed up and suddenly he can't speak or walk anymore or if he suddenly loses all of his memories? I'm sure that in his 300 or so years of existence that there are things he'd love to forget, but I can't take that chance…" She realized she was rambling, but she was so close to her breaking point and she'd be damned if she was going to allow her emotions to get the best of her. "Right now, all I want to do is figure out what the hell the person who invaded our home was looking for…"

David instinctively knew not to argue with his daughter when she set her mind to a task. Only she would be able to contend with the pain and the anger when she reached this mindset, but it didn't mean that he couldn't offer a bit of assistance. "Let me know if you need my help."

"Could you please call Henry and tell him to stay at Regina's tonight? I don't want him walking in on this," she said, then had to wonder how much her son knew. "I suppose he already knows what happened?"

"About the attack? Yes. I told him myself so he wouldn't be wondering where Hook was. He doesn't know that the house was broken into though, but I had already suggested going to Regina's after school because I didn't want him to be alone. Your mother and I would have invited him to the loft, but we figured Neal might pester him a bit too much."

"Good thinking. Okay – give me ten or fifteen minutes to take a look around upstairs." This wasn't going to be easy but she had to do it. She had a promise to keep.

Emma slowly descended the staircase not quite twenty minutes later, carrying an olive green canvas backpack. David almost opened his mouth to ask her about it then quickly realized that she had grabbed a few items she needed because she didn't plan to spend the night there.

"So – what's the verdict? Anything seem to be missing?" he asked her instead.

"Here's the thing - there was only one item that I couldn't seem to locate. I mean, there might be others, but at a quick glance, the only thing that appears to be missing is the silver pocket watch I bought Killian for his birthday. I remembered it had been laying on top of the dresser last week because it wasn't keep time correctly. Killian was going to take it back to the jeweler to see what was wrong with it, but I was so busy preparing for this stupid trip to Boston for the hearing that I honestly didn't notice if he had dropped it off or not."

"You think whoever broke in could have taken it?"

"Maybe - unless for some reason he was carrying it today?"

"I picked up all of his clothing and personal effects from the hospital this afternoon. They're all bagged in the evidence locker at the station and while I haven't had much of a chance to check through everything, there wasn't any type of watch listed on the inventory sheet."

"What would be so special about a little silver pocket watch that would cause someone to turn over our entire house just to locate that single, solitary item? Does that make any sense to you?" Emma was trying hard to wrap her head around the probability, but no matter how hard she attempted, breaking into a house to steal a pocket watch made absolutely no sense to her.

"Well, no," David replied, equally dumbfounded that the watch was the sole missing item. "I'll check with Mr. Blackstone at the jewelry store tomorrow morning and see if he has the watch in his possession. If not, I'll make sure that a description gets out as stolen property."

"Good. Let me know what you find out," she stated as she slung the backpack up and onto her right shoulder while she waved her hand to magically switch off the lights.

"Emma, why don't you come and stay with us at the loft tonight?" David suggested. "I really don't want you to be alone tonight."

"Thanks for the offer, Dad," she responded with a meek smile as they stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind them. Since there wasn't much left to latch it, she used a quick magic spell to seal the doorway shut ensuring that no one else would get inside until she'd had a chance to properly repair it. She could have done so with magic instantly, but her mind was already elsewhere. "I won't be alone though."


	4. Chapter 4

_Tuesday, 7:31am_

After finding herself spending the night in an uncomfortable wooden armchair with no back support and little or no padding under her tailbone, Emma really hadn't slept. She'd dozed off a couple of times out of sheer exhaustion, but every time either noise or a bustle of activity would stir her from her semi-conscious sleep state. It wasn't that she was unappreciative of the fact Whale had allowed her to remain at Killian's bedside (even if she had threatened him with bodily harm if he hadn't. Well, not exactly…). Thankfully, the doctor had been rather understanding and even a bit more cooperative than she'd expected so she hadn't needed to resort to threats – not that the thought wouldn't have crossed her mind. In truth, she'd simply spent most of the night just watching her husband. Watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. Watching for any little flutter of his eyelids or twitch of a finger.

She hadn't really expected anything since it had been less than twenty four hours since he was attacked. She knew that he'd wake when he was ready. Considering his history, this almost certainly wasn't his first concussion and probably not his first skull fracture either. Hell, she'd even contributed to the toll a couple of times – a compass to the temple back in the Enchanted Forest and whatever object she'd struck him with in New York City. She couldn't really remember what she'd picked up back then to strike him when he'd made his attempt to kill Rumplestiltskin in the lobby of Neal's apartment building. Of course, back then he'd been a very different person and someone had to smack the smugness out of him. Well, at least his color looked somewhat better today – with the notable exception of the darkening bruises peeking from beneath the bandages on his face, but it had been a difficult road getting to this point.

There had been a few occasions during the night where his blood pressure would either spike or plummet to dangerous levels setting off a plethora of alarms on the machines that surrounded him, making his heart race or slow nearly to a stop. According to Whale, these nerve-wracking events weren't unexpected and more occurrences would likely happen as his body fought through the trauma. He still had a long way to go to recover and there really wasn't any way to judge how difficult that journey was going to be until he woke. Would he suffer any amnesia or lose motor function? Would he still be able to communicate? Whale had sent him for CT scans every three to four hours, but so far, he hadn't appeared overly concerned with any of the test results or with the pattern of wavy lines that was being generated by the machine monitoring Killian's brain activity.

And there had been some positive developments too. Thanks to Emma healing his fractured rib cage and damaged lung, he was able to breathe on his own again, so they'd removed the ventilator tube as well as the chest tube that had been protruding from his side to help restore his damaged lung. She wasn't really sure how that would've worked, but she was pleased to see far less tubes and wires this morning than the previous night. Since she'd also healed the surgical incision and there was no longer a dressing to attend to on his torso, the nurses had dressed him in a more modest standard hospital gown on his last trip to Radiology – not that Killian would have been the least bit concerned about modesty. His poor face was still just a battered, bloody, black and blue mess though which disturbed her more each time she stared at it, but for now she'd leave it alone and see how it healed.

One development that she hadn't expected though was to spot her mother and her teenaged son stepping out of the elevator on this early morning. Visiting hours in ICU didn't start until 10am and were strictly limited to one person at a time so the perturbed expression on the duty nurse's face was understandable and duly justified. Before there was a confrontation, Emma quickly stood up and hurried out into the corridor to intercept them, whispering a brief "It's okay" to the nurse as she strode past the desk.

"What are you two doing here at this hour?" Emma demanded, looking straight into her mother's face as she asked the question.

"I figured you probably wouldn't want to leave to get something to eat, so I brought you some sandwiches, fruit and stuff to get you through the day. You can't afford not to eat something," Snow insisted as she proudly held up a white paper take out bag that was clearly from Granny's.

"Mom, I appreciate it, but you didn't have to," Emma replied as she led them away from the irritated nurse toward the entrance to Killian's room, although she stopped short of actually passing through the doorway. "Shouldn't you be on your way to school?" she asked Henry, intentionally attempting to change the subject.

"I was worried," the teen admitted. "Grandpa wouldn't tell us much yesterday. All we knew was that Killian had been hurt bad so when I ran into Grandma this morning, I asked to tag along. I just want to know that he's okay. We all want to know…"

"He's still unconscious," Emma sighed, "but he's hanging in there. I healed what I could of his injuries, but not much else has changed since last night."

"Can I go in and see him?" Henry asked, gesturing toward the doorway to his right. Emma took a quick glance toward the nurse who had now turned her back to them and was speaking to someone on the phone. Probably calling Dr. Whale, she figured.

"He looks really bad. You sure you're okay with it?" Emma really didn't want her nearly 16 year old son to be any more traumatized by this than with everything else he'd already seen at his young age.

"I've seen a lot worse, Mom, remember? I'll be fine," he assured her. Emma nodded in agreement.

"Can't stay too long. You still need to get to school on time."

"I know, Mom. Just a few minutes." As the boy stepped through the doorway, Emma watched him flinch ever so slightly as his gaze fell onto his stepfather lying motionless in the hospital bed. She could sense how much it hurt. There was no doubt that Henry loved Killian and seeing the man who'd really become like a father to him in so much pain was something Emma had hoped Henry would never have to see again.

"How are you holding up?" Snow asked, drawing Emma's attention back as she'd stared blankly at her son and husband.

"How am I supposed to be holding up?" Emma replied almost bitterly, a note of sheer frustration and weariness in her voice. "I'm exhausted and I'm angry because we still have no idea who did this to him or why!"

"Shouldn't you let your father take the lead on this case? You don't need all of the extra stress in your condition…"

Emma froze - mouth agape at her mother's words – _in your condition._

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Emma, please – do you think I didn't notice that expectant glow? I'm your mother for heaven's sake. How far along are you?"

Dumbfounded as to how her mother had apparently seen signs of her pregnancy long before she herself had figured it out, she replied meekly. "About eight or nine weeks, but that's just a guess. I just got the test results a few days ago so I haven't had an official appointment yet." A jubilant Snow White threw her arms around her daughter, squeezing her tightly, then reeling back slowly as she realized why Emma didn't seem to be as excited by the revelation.

"Killian doesn't know yet, does he?" Snow asked tentatively, not wanting to further upset her daughter. Those pregnancy hormones could trigger a flood of tears right here in the hallway or lead to an irate outburst.

"Unless you count me blurting it out to him last night while he lay there comatose, no, he doesn't know yet. We were supposed to go out to dinner last night when I got home and I had planned to tell him then – to make it a celebration. That certainly didn't work out as planned…" Emma found it harder to hold back her emotions as her voice crackled and squeaked out the last word.

"Oh, honey – that must be making all of this twice as hard on you…"

"No harder than anything else we've been through," Emma lied.

"But now it's more than just the two of you to be worried about…," Snow wanted to more than anything to be able to help her daughter, but this one was beyond her means. She could offer a shoulder to cry on and lend an ear to talk to, but she couldn't make this waking nightmare go away. "Please let me know if you need anything. I'll get Henry to school, but I can stop by again later."

With Neal? Emma wanted to ask, not sure if she could handle her rambunctious brother and his terrible twos right now, but she kept the thought to herself.

"Right now, Mom, the only thing I want is coffee. Real coffee - not the vending machine crap."

"Are you sure that's safe for the baby?"

"Safer than me without coffee. It's only caffeine. I'll cut back after all of this is over and Killian's back home and his attacker behind bars. I just need this latest crisis to be over – and don't say it…" Being pregnant in this town was going to be enough of an adventure. "And please don't say anything to Henry or anyone else for that matter. I want to be the one to tell him that he's going to be a big brother, but I want to be able to tell Killian first…"

"Oh, Emma, I wouldn't dream of spoiling it for you," Snow smiled while her daughter glared back at her with a scowl. "What? You don't think I can keep a…Oh…"

"Just try not to say anything for a couple of days, please? I really was hoping that Killian and I would be able to share the news together to our family and friends, but those plans might have to change depending on how soon Killian's awake and coherent enough to even tell him."

"He's going to be ecstatic! And he's going to be a great dad. He already is a great dad," Snow gestured through the glass wall to Henry who stood quietly and rather pensively at Killian's bedside. "I'll do my best," she promised as Emma strayed into the hospital room and wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders.

"You need to get off to school so you're not late," Emma reminded him.

"I know," Henry whispered, as though fearful that his voice might awaken the unconscious Killian. "Do you think it would be okay if I came by after school for a little while?"

"I'll clear it with Dr. Whale, but I'm pretty sure it will be alright. I appreciate it." She tousled her son's hair as she pulled him tighter to her, his eyes still not drifting from the face of his injured stepfather. "Killian definitely appreciates you being here, too, Kid," she assured the teen. "I know he does."

"Thanks, Mom," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I hope that you and Grandpa find out who hurt him like this. They deserve to be punished."

"And they will. They will." She made the promise to both of the men who meant the world to her as Henry made his way toward the doorway, but he'd barely taken a step out into the corridor when a shrill alarm sounded on one of the monitors behind them. He spun around trying to see where the sound was coming from and what it might be, but Emma hurriedly ushered him out of the room as the nurse rushed toward them. Emma's face went a bit ashen as she was reminded of the two prior times that alarm had gone off during the night and seeing the visible shift in her daughter's expression, Snow was understandably worried that this was very serious.

"What's happening?" Henry wondered as his mother led him toward the elevator without so much as a single glance back toward the room. She wanted to steer him away so he couldn't look back either. "What's that sound?"

"It's okay…," Emma said, attempting to keep her voice as calm and optimistic as she could while she pressed the Down arrow to call the elevator, knowing she was failing miserably. "It's not the first time I've heard it in the past few hours. It's just a warning…"

"Emma, are you sure?" Snow asked, concerned that her daughter wasn't being entirely upfront with her reply. "What kind of warning?"

"I think that one was a warning about his blood pressure, but there've been so many different bells and whistles going off all night that I'm not really sure anymore. He'll be fine…" She wasn't sure if she was trying harder to convince them or herself. "He'll be fine," she repeated, taking a quick glance back toward Killian's room as the elevator doors opened to see a second nurse injecting something into his IV. "Come on – I'll walk you out. It's better that I don't get in their way…"

 _8:02am_

Ravenously hungry and honestly not yet ready to go back upstairs, Emma fished an orange out of the paper bag her mother had supplied (and she'd had the presence of mind to bring with her) while she sat down on a bench outside the hospital's main entrance. As she peeled the fruit, she tossed the discarded bits of rind into the trash can to her right. She wasn't really worried about Killian managing the latest setback - well, at least not as worried as she had been the first time that alarm had sounded. Compared to the trauma he'd already survived, this was relatively minor, not that it made the situation any less nerve-wracking. Her biggest fear was that it might be becoming a disturbing routine.

She bit into a section of orange and savored its sweetness as if it were an indulgent luxury and perhaps it was, but she nearly choked when her phone suddenly rang, startling her more than she'd thought possible. She also thought that she had turned the ringer down, but her phone apparently had other ideas. She took a quick glance at the name displayed on the screen as she retrieved it from her pocked left-handed since the fingers on her right were a tad sticky and juicy at the moment. No surprise that the call was from her father.

"Hi, Dad," she answered. "What's up?"

"Emma, I was just checking messages on the phone at the station and we had a call this morning from someone who was working at a construction site near the docks yesterday. This person thinks they caught a glimpse of Hook's attacker – maybe enough to provide a description."

"That's great!" It was truly the first good news she'd heard in nearly a day. "Are they coming in to give a statement?"

"I'm going to meet with the witness as soon as your mother gets back, but it means I'll have to postpone heading over to see Mr. Blackstone at the jewelry store until later."

"That's okay," she told him. "The witness is more important. I'll call the jewelry store myself when it opens."

"You don't need to. I can still follow up for you," he insisted, wanting to help her out as much as he could since she had enough of a burden weighing her down.

"Dad, I can handle it. It's still part of my job. Just let me know what the witness has to say."

"I will. I'll call you later this morning."

"Thanks," Emma replied as she disconnected the call, eager to learn what their potential witness might be able to provide them. Hopefully, it meant they were one step closer to identifying Killian's assailant.

She lingered outside for a few minutes longer as she finished off the orange, enjoying a little bit of sunshine before heading back to the dreary, depressing room with its too bright florescent lights, nauseating scent and unnatural sounds. At the moment, she just didn't have the strength for it so she rummaged through the bag to see what else was inside, slightly disappointed that there were no grilled cheese sandwiches but she did understand that those wouldn't exactly have kept well. She found a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches which she hoped were prepared with her preferred blackberry jam instead of the usual grape or strawberry but she couldn't tell by the color and right now, didn't really care. She also spotted another orange, a bag of chips – sour cream and chive, of course and a small zipper baggie with a few of Granny's special chocolate chip cookies Her sensible side said to eat the second orange or one of the sandwiches, but baby said go for the cookies – so she did.

She hadn't even finished chewing the first bite of her treat when she caught sight of a young woman wearing lilac floral scrubs approaching her. "Mrs. Jones?" the nurse called out to her tentatively.

"Yes," Emma replied, quickly swallowing the mouthful of chocolately goodness. "I'm Mrs. Jones."

"Oh, good," the woman smiled. "Dr. Whale sent me to find you. He needs you to come back upstairs." Emma gulped and felt the blood draining from her face. Whale wanted her back upstairs now? So soon after this latest episode? What was wrong now?

"Thank you," she replied with a weak, forced smile. She dropped the rest of the cookie into the bag and stood up, mentally preparing herself for whatever bad news she was about to receive.

"He's waiting for you upstairs in ICU," the nurse informed her, then added with the sweetest grin – "Your husband's awake."

"Awake?" Emma's heart must have skipped a beat when she heard then repeated that word. She'd had herself steeled for awful news but instead, this was a delightful, unexpected surprise and she didn't waste a moment rushing back inside to the elevator.

Her heart was still pounding with an abundance of joy and anticipation as the elevator doors opened and she looked out to see Dr. Whale standing over Killian's bedside. She crossed the corridor to his room in what felt like three quick strides, thrilled to see her husband's brilliant blue eyes open. Well, at least one of them. His left eye was still partially hidden beneath the layers of gauze and with that side of his face so bruised and swollen, he likely couldn't open that one entirely anyway. But as she locked her gaze on him, what disturbed her wasn't that he couldn't completely open that left eye but that the right one didn't seem to be focusing on anything. He seemed to be staring blankly at the ceiling and her heart that moments ago been soaring with happiness instantly sank at the overwhelming fear that this was a very ominous sign. She placed the paper bag of food on the counter just inside the door and inched closer to the bed, trembling with trepidation.

But then she heard a weak, raspy voice call out her name.

"Emma?"

As swiftly as her spirits had plummeted, suddenly they were filled with elation. He remembered her name! He was able to speak. Maybe they'd be able to get through all of this relatively unscathed.

"I'm right here," she promised him as she grasped his hand and squeezed it assuredly between both of her own, smiling broadly as his fingers tightened around hers, even if his grip was still slight and shaky. "It's okay. I'm right here with you."

He winced and let out the tiniest little anguished squeak as he made an attempt to turn his head in the direction of her voice, making her heart ache for him as she thought about how severe his pain must be. His features became scrunched and contorted as he grimaced from what must have been agonizing pain then closed his eyes, withering away from her touch at the realization that he wouldn't be able to move as readily as he thought he might. The pain was excruciating but as he slowly allowed his unhindered eye to reopen, it became immediately apparent that his sight was failing him. He could feel the slightly rough texture of the gauze against his skin as well as the pull of the sticky adhesive tape holding the bandages in place, but he only felt those against the left side of his face. Was the right side uninjured or was he just not feeling all of the apparent wounds? Even though the sutured laceration across his cheek was mostly numb, he still knew it was present. Even the slightest twitch of his jaw pulled the flesh taut enough to make opening his mouth to talk difficult and painful - and seemingly threatened to tear apart the sutures.

"Let's go ahead and increase the morphine drip," he heard a voice say, recognizing it a moment later as belonging to Dr. Whale. He wanted to decline, but lacked the strength to argue, instead drifting off to sleep when the narcotic began to flow through his veins, blissfully easing some of the pain.

"Killian?" Emma called out to him as she felt his muscles relax while he faded back into unconsciousness. "Can you hear me?" She knew he'd returned to that deep sleep state as his grip went slack.

"He'll be in and out of consciousness for a while," Whale reminded her, "but this is a very good sign that all of his cognitive functions appear to be intact as well as his motor skills. Obviously, time will tell, but so far, the only concerning effect I'm seeing is a loss of vision, but that is presumably the result of swelling in his occipital lobe – close to the optic nerve. It should only be a temporary ailment though as the swelling continues to decrease, so we'll step up the anti-inflammatory medication and keep a close watch on that."

"Wait…," Emma looked up at the doctor, still in disbelief at what she'd just heard. "You're saying he's blind?" Had she heard him correctly?

"Right now – yes," he replied, "but as I said, it should only be temporary. It's honestly a very minor side effect considering all of the injuries he sustained."

"Of course," she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with her forefinger and thumb as she released her hold on Killian's hand, placing it gently down atop the blanket at his side before taking a step back away from the bed.

"Don't worry, Emma," the doctor began in an attempt to reassure her that this wasn't as terrible as it might seem. "He's doing far better than I'd anticipated. You've already done him a huge favor by healing the injuries to his rib cage and lung. The rest will come in time."

"I know that," she replied softly as she ambled listlessly toward the doorway with Whale following close behind. "It's just hard not being able to fix it instantly. Every time I look at him and see the pain he's in, I'm struggling with that urge."

"It's not always about taking the easy way out," he stated, more introspectively than she'd expected. "Just remember that he's strong enough to fight through it."

"I know he is, but it doesn't make it any easier to watch," she said as Whale nodded in agreement, but he didn't say anything else to her as he strolled away, leaving her alone in the corridor where she lingered, staring back toward her husband, but not really looking at him or anything else for that matter. Even if Killian woke, he wouldn't be able to see her standing there and she remembered how much it had physically pained her to see his eyes, normally so expressive - so full of depth and mischief - seem so vacant and lost.

But at least he'd awakened. He'd known who she was and hopefully, he knew who he was. Perhaps his next period of lucidity would last longer than mere minutes so she could ask him what he remembered about the attack.

And so that she could finally share the news that would either completely overwhelm him or overjoy him. Well, maybe a little of both…

It wasn't until her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall above the nurses' desk that she realized how much time had actually passed. It was a little after 9am so her father should be talking to their potential witness and Mr. Blackstone should have opened his store for business, but before she could look up the jewelry store's phone number her own phone began to ring. Having forgotten again to turn down the ringer, she crinkled her nose and threw a quick "I'm so sorry" glance at the nurse while she muted the sound and moved briskly toward the privacy of the lounge, wondering the entire time if her memory was already being affected by pregnancy fog. She didn't recognize the number on the display other than it was a local one from Storybrooke, so she answered the call with an almost tentative "Hello?"

"Hello, Emma? This is Cyrus Blackstone, the jeweler." Apparently he wasn't certain if she would remember who he was.

"Mr. Blackstone," she repeated, caught off guard that the person she was about to call had just beat her to it. "I was actually just about to call you."

"About your husband's watch? Killian brought it by Friday morning and had informed me that it wasn't keeping proper time."

"No, it wasn't. I wasn't sure if Killian had remembered to bring it to you."

"Well, I do have to apologize that I didn't have a spare moment to look at it until yesterday, but you'll be happy to know that the watch itself is fine. The problem was that somehow, someone had stuck an old coin beneath the watch mechanism which caused one of the gears to stick."

"How did a coin get inside his watch?" she wondered.

"I've really no idea. I inspected the watch thoroughly when I acquired it. I can't believe that I would have missed something like that, and I'm certain you or Killian would have remembered if you'd stuck a coin inside of it. Thankfully, no harm, no foul. It's working just fine now and it's ready to pick up whenever you have a moment to stop by."

"Thank you. I know my father's in the area. I may have him drop by and pick it up this morning. I really appreciate you taking a look at it."

"My pleasure," he replied. "And Emma, I heard about what happened to your husband yesterday. It's a small town so news tends to travel fast. I do hope he's going to be okay."

"Thank you," she said graciously. "We're just taking things day by day."

After saying goodbye and disconnecting the call, she settled down onto the lounge's beat up sofa for a moment. Mr. Blackstone had the pocket watch in his possession all weekend, so it hadn't been stolen by whoever broke into the house. Of course, this new fact didn't change the fact that someone had tossed their house in search of something. The "what" of that search remained a mystery and once again was one of the big questions she was trying to answer.

She was still entirely convinced that the previous day's incidents were connected, but couldn't wrap her head around a motive. Sure there were a lot of people who didn't particularly like Killian for his villainous past, but he hadn't been that pirate for a very long time so it didn't seem likely that someone would have waited this long to go after him and it definitely didn't tie in to the break in. She also still wasn't able to ascertain which event had occurred first. Considering the early morning hour of the attack in the alley, she theorized that it could have happened first. His assailant must have been expecting him to have something with him, and when they didn't find it, they'd gone to the house to further their search. It certainly didn't seem that they'd found what they'd been hunting for, but what had it been? The pocket watch had been the only thing that she hadn't been able to account for last night, but it was such as unlikely target. Far more valuable items had been left untouched.

And yet everything kept pointing back to that watch – the silver pocket watch she'd purchased just a few weeks earlier that she'd just learned for some reason had a coin concealed inside. She could make the assumption that Killian's attacker could have known about it and expected him to be carrying it yesterday, not aware that it was broken. It would mean that the person who assaulted him and invaded their home knew them well enough to have knowledge of the gift. Nothing about this was making any sense.

Unless the watch itself hadn't been the goal.

What if the would-be thief had actually been looking for the coin?

She contemplated this new perspective for a moment. If the coin had been the intended prize, who had known it was inside the watch? Mr. Blackstone had told her that the watch had been in his display case for a while when she'd purchased it so it wasn't exactly an item that had been in high demand, but still – how had he not noticed that there was a coin stuck inside the watch casing? It made no sense that he would knowingly sell a watch that didn't function properly either. In a town as small as Storybrooke, word would surely get around that he'd sold a defective item which would likely hurt his business. It stood to reason that the coin had found its way into the watch sometime after he'd acquired it, yet before she purchased it.

Which brought her right back to the same nagging question – Why?

It was a question she'd have to ponder later though as her phone began to vibrate in her hand. At least this time, she'd managed to silence the ringer to avoid any further ire from the nurse on duty and this time, it was a familiar caller – her father – and with any hope, he was calling with good news from interviewing the witness.

"Hi, Dad. What did you find out?" She cut straight to the important question.

"Well, our witness didn't get a particularly good look at the suspect, but it was enough to give us a description that should prove helpful."

"In what way?"

"Let's just say they saw something very specific. I won't go into detail over the phone though. Not from down here at least," he stated, referring to his present location near the harbor.

"Okay, why don't you meet me here and you can tell me in person," she wasn't sure why he was so hesitant to tell her the description over the phone, but he had his reasons and it had definitely piqued her interest. "Oh, and can you do me a favor and stop by the jewelry store? Mr. Blackstone did have the pocket watch. Killian dropped it off last week and he found out why it wasn't working. Here's the thing - I think that what he found could be the key to everything, but I'm not entirely sure yet. I'd go pick it up myself, but Killian woke for a few minutes this morning so I don't want to stray too far so I can be here when he wakes again."

"No problem. You know I understand the situation completely. I'll swing by and get the watch on my way over. I'm only about two blocks away."

"Thanks. I'll see you in a few minutes then," she stated as she ended the call and tucked the phone away into her jacket pocket, confident that they now had a solid lead to work with. Now though, it was time for her to stop being Sheriff and savior for a while and go back to being a wife. And maybe it was time to devour one of those peanut butter sandwiches because Baby Jones was apparently very hungry this morning.

 _9:45am_

Her phone conversation completed, Emma wandered out of the puny closet of a lounge to a momentary panic as she found Killian's room empty. Once the nurse explained that Dr. Whale had taken him to Radiology to get updated CT scans and x-rays while he was still unconscious, her racing heart calmed a bit. The nurse expected that the tests would take at least another half hour so Emma retrieved the bag full of snacks and decided to venture back outside to enjoy the rest of her breakfast while waiting for her father to arrive. It just seemed like the better option than sitting in an empty hospital room.

By the time David pulled into the lot and parked the Sheriff cruiser, there wasn't much left of the food Snow had brought. The sandwiches were long gone and she was finishing off the second orange when she spied her father strolling toward her from the lot.

"Sorry – I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast," he smiled, relieved that his daughter seemed far less stressed than yesterday. "You're a bit more relaxed today, I see." Emma's lips curled into a little grin as the popped the last section of orange into her mouth and discarded the remaining peelings.

"It's okay, Dad. I had a few minutes to spare while Whale has my husband in Radiology so I came out here to enjoy a little fresh air and sunlight – well, it was sunny earlier," she noted as she looked up at the now cloudy sky as storm clouds approached from the west. "As for being relaxed, I guess I might be somewhat less stressed than yesterday now that Killian's awakened."

"So I gather he's doing better this morning?"

"He seems to be, although it was a bit of a rocky start. He was awake for a few minutes and he knew who I was. It's not huge progress, but every little step counts, right? I want to know what you found out though."

"Okay – for starters, let me give you the watch before I forget," David said as he reached into the right hand pocket of his deep walnut colored leather motorcycle jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a wad of pale grey cloth. "Mr. Blackstone insisted on wrapping it up in a silk handkerchief. He kept apologizing for selling you a watch that he hadn't properly scrutinized." He passed the silken bundle to his daughter who immediately peeled back the layers of cloth to expose the brightly polished silver-plated casing to the daylight. She couldn't help but reminisce for a moment as she ran her thumb across the embossed anchor design and thought of the personalized engraving inside that would have brought her to tears if she'd dared open its cover. She'd made the inscription simple, yet equally profound:

 _You'll always be my anchor._

"What about the coin?" she asked as she folded the handkerchief back around the watch and shoved it into her own jacket pocket - before she dared allow sentimentality to get the best of her. David produced a tiny zip top baggie from the same pocket he'd pulled the watch from and held it up to the light.

"What a strange thing to find inside a watch," he commented as Emma snatched the little plastic bag from his hand, eager to get a closer look at it. The coin was roughly the size of a quarter – maybe a smidge larger, but thinner. A coating of patina covered what would be considered the "heads" side of the at least partially copper coin which depicted a man's head in profile with what appeared to be an olive branch crown on his head. Despite being well worn, there was still enough detail for her to suspect that it was Greek or maybe Roman, but even on the reverse side, there was no lettering. Nothing to indicate its origin. The "tails" side of the coin simply had the impression of a tree – again, likely olive, but it possibly could have been something from the citrus family too. She couldn't really be sure without having it examined by an expert.

"Looks like it might be Greek or maybe Roman to me," she speculated. "Wonder how the hell it ended up inside Killian's watch?"

"Cyrus was completely stumped on that one too," David told her as she tucked the coin into her pocket alongside the bundled watch.

"We might need to consult an expert, but if I'm right, that could be a risky decision. I just have a feeling that this coin is the key to everything that happened yesterday."

"You think so?" he wondered. "Seems a bit of a stretch at this point, don't you think? I mean, no one knew the coin was inside the watch…"

"That we know of," she said. "It's purely a gut feeling right now, but everything keeps pointing back to it," but before she could get carried away with theories about the watch and mysterious coin, Emma paused and decided to change the subject. "Anyway, enough about that… I'm anxious to hear what you learned from our witness."

"I figured we'd get around to that," he grinned, knowing he had some juicy information to share. "Our witness was arriving to work yesterday morning as part of the crew that was repairing the hole that opened up on Harbor Way after the water main broke. They had Harbor completely blocked off – including the sidewalk which was probably why Hook used the alley on his way to the docks. To make a long story short, as he was setting up some of their equipment, he saw someone emerge from the alley in a big hurry."

"Did he get a good look at that someone?"

"Not particularly. It wasn't enough to make out a face, just that the person was male, stocky build. Not exceptionally tall, but definitely very distracted."

"That description could fit a lot of people in this town," she sighed, visibly disappointed. "I thought you said the witness gave a very specific description?"

"Oh, he did," David smirked, having held back the best tidbit. "It was in the details of what the mysterious man had been wearing that the clue emerged – black wool pea coat, jeans and a red knitted ski cap. Who do we know that fits that description?"

He was right – only one person came to mind given those specifics, but had the witness been there at the right time?

"The timeline fits?" she asked.

"He said he got to work between 7:20 and 7:30 yesterday morning. Archie called for an ambulance at approximately 7:40am so yes – the timeline definitely fits."

"Then go find the little rat and bring him in for questioning," she ordered as a fit of disgust instantly brought out the authoritative side of her. "And let me know when you find him because I want to question him myself."

"You'll be my first call," he stated as he gave her a quick hug before returning to the cruiser. If their witness proved correct, someone had a lot of explaining to do, but they had to find him first.


	5. Chapter 5

_10:09am_

The recent developments weighed heavy on her mind as she made her way back upstairs. She was happy to have a suspect, yet at the same time, the mere thought of just who that suspect was and the amount of betrayal that this involved made her furious. The witness had only placed him in the vicinity. He hadn't seen the actual attack. Only Killian could possibly put him at the scene, but Emma wasn't sure if she should push him for details so soon. The Sheriff side of her said they had a crime to solve, but the wife in her said to wait until he was stronger. They were about to bring in someone he trusted – someone he counted as a friend – for questioning. The thought of it stung and continued to beg the question – why?

She stood pensively in the corridor for a moment and before she allowed herself to walk through the doorway into the room, she made the decision that she wouldn't say anything to him about their suspect until they either had a confession or a lot more evidence. Unless Killian himself named his attacker, that is - although she honestly doubted he'd say anything if their suspicions were correct. He probably wouldn't choose to be particularly forthcoming about being assaulted and betrayed by someone who'd been a friend and confidant for so long. No matter what happened though, she told herself she wouldn't bring up the suspect's name unless he initiated it.

She was just thankful that they were alone as she stepped into the room and lowered herself back into the chair she'd spent the night in. It had been such a hectic morning that she was enjoying this moment of relative peace. His eyes were still closed and his breathing was slow, but steady so she figured he was still asleep. The regular blips on the monitor behind him showed his heart rate hovering around 70 beats per minute and while she didn't know if that was good or bad, after the night they'd been through, she was happy for consistent. She also noticed a few differences from earlier. The bandages that were wrapped about his head had been changed as they were now smoother and no longer tinged with bloodstains. The one covering the gash on his cheek had been replaced as well, although that wound still seemed to be seeping. It even appeared that the sheets and blanket were new as she could have sworn that the blanket had been tan before and this one seemed to be more of a cream or ivory color. Of course, her weary eyes could be deceiving her as she hadn't really been paying that much attention to the color of his bedcovers.

"Wondered when you'd be back," Killian whispered, slowly opening his eyes as he tried his best to turn toward her with a wince and a whimper. She moved swiftly to stop him, placing her open palm against his jawline to let him know she was close before he did any further damage to himself.

"Hold still," she warned as she placed her right hand atop his chest as she realized his gaze still lacked focus. "I'm right here and you shouldn't be trying to move around just yet."

"Have to agree with you, Love," he replied with a tepid and visibly exhausted smile. "Hurts to move around at all, but I guess it's a good thing that I have a hard head."

"Yeah, well, that hard head has a few cracks in it. Somebody really did a number on you."

"Aye," he sighed, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw as he tried to fight through the obvious pain. "Been a long time since someone got the jump on me like that…" Emma tried hard not to think of just how many fights and battles he'd likely been in during his tenure as one of the most dreaded pirates on the high seas. "How long…?"

"A little over 24 hours," she responded, recognizing that he wanted to know how long it had been since the attack. "What do you remember?" She asked the question casually, not wanting to press him too hard, but hoping he still might be able to fill in some of the blanks. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment as if trying to jog the hazy memories.

"Not much really. I was headed to my ship…Had to take an alternate route because of repairs to the road. Ended up in that bloody alley…" He paused to catch his breath, the exertion already tolling him, but he forced himself to continue. "There was a noise and before I could react, something struck me, then again. I don't recall how many times… Tried to fight back, but I was at a disadvantage…Lost my hook with one of the blows that I was certain had fractured my arm…" He held up his stump with a confused expression when there was no rush of pain.

"My dad has your hook back at the station. He found it at the scene and yes – you had a lot more injuries, but I healed the ones I could…" She took a deep breath herself before asking her next question. "Did you get a look at the person who attacked you?"

"'Fraid not, Love," he sighed, disappointed that he couldn't provide that vital information to help capture his own assailant. "All I saw was someone running from me, but I'm fairly certain he rummaged through my pockets in search of something first. I wasn't exactly completely coherent at the time, so it's possible that I may have hallucinated it."

"I doubt that," she assured him. "Pretty sure whoever did this was looking for something, but that's enough for you for right now. You need to rest and let that hard head of yours heal."

"So did my head prove to be too much of a challenge for you?" he asked with a smirk, although immediately regretting that facial expression.

"No, dear," she grinned. "Your head was off limits to magic. Whale pointed out how risky it could be and I agreed with him. But I might be able to help with one nagging little thing… Do you trust me?"

"Of course," he stated, wondering what she was doing when he sensed her leaning over him and then felt her tugging off the bandages covering his left cheek to reveal the jagged, ugly wound beneath. The edges were still bright red and raw, held together solely by the sutures, but the torn skin wasn't the only visibly painful blemish. The deep bluish purple, almost black bruises that extended from just above his jawline to his left temple were even more gruesome now that she was seeing them in their entirety. "May I ask what the devil you're doing?"

"I may not be allowed to repair the damage to your skull or heal your concussion, but I think I can get rid of this nasty looking gash…" With just her index finger extended, she allowed her healing magic to trace the length of the laceration from where it began just to the left of his nose to the spot just above his ear, grinning happily as she watched the flesh mend itself as she went along, his features and coloring gradually returning to normal. "Now, there's the devilishly handsome pirate I married."

"I'll have to take your word for that, Swan," he smiled, elated he was now able to do so with far less discomfort. "Looking forward to laying my eyes on my beautiful wife again soon. 'Tis a strange sensation to wake to nothing but shadows…"

She could tell from his voice that he was both physically and emotionally spent so this time when he closed his eyes, it didn't come as a surprise that he'd drifted back to sleep, letting out a long exhale as his body relaxed. She'd probably made him overdo it a bit, forcing his weakened body to retreat to the relative safety of unconsciousness. She felt a slight pang of guilt for pushing him so far, but at least it had paid off. Killian hadn't seen his assailant, but when he mentioned that he thought his attacker had gone through his pockets, she had all the proof she needed to confirm that the person who'd beat him so savagely had also been the same person who'd broken into their house. Had to be…

And yet again, she was brought full circle to that damned pocket watch and its mysterious contents. She really needed Killian to see it, hoping he could provide his unique insight. He'd traveled to so many different lands and realms that the miserable coin just might be familiar to him, but everything was on hold until his sight returned and if that didn't happen soon, she'd still be sitting right here at square one. She was almost afraid to take it to anyone else in an attempt to identify it, convinced that in this case, the fewer people who knew about the coin, the better.

So once again, she settled herself back down into that awful armchair – not really having any other option if she wanted to stay with her husband and at some point, she must have dozed off herself because the next thing she knew, she was being awakened by the vibration of her cell phone. If the clock on the wall was to be believed, it was now nearly 11:30. She took a quick glance to her left, confirming that Killian was still asleep while she fumbled to locate her phone, having forgotten which pocket she'd put it in. Ugh, she thought – it's too early in this pregnancy to deal with this! At least it was only her father calling. He wouldn't take offense if she didn't answer immediately. She also didn't bother to walk over to the lounge before answering the call this time. She was certain it wouldn't disturb Killian and she really didn't care if it bothered the nurse on duty.

"Hello again, Dad," she answered, hoping she'd caught the call before it rang into voicemail.

"I almost expected I was going to be leaving you a message," David laughed.

"Almost did," she admitted. "Did you track down our suspect?"

"I did. He's here with me at the station awaiting your arrival."

"I'll be there in 10," she stated as she hung up the call, shifting instantly back to sheriff mode as she gave her husband a tender kiss on his newly healed cheek. "Hopefully I'll have answers for both of us when I get back," she told him, not sure if he could even hear her, but feeling better just saying it aloud.

Now it was time for an interrogation.

 _11:45am_

Emma wasted no time getting to the station and as she ambled through the front door, she spotted her best (and only) suspect sitting nervously in a chair across the desk from her father, tugging anxiously at his knit cap. She made herself push back the anger welling inside her before opening her mouth, remembering that she had to handle this just as questioning – not accusing. Not yet at least…

"Mr. Smee," she began, her voice quiet and steady as she pulled up a chair next to David while putting on the best fake smile she could muster. "Thank you for coming in and agreeing to talk to us this morning." Before sitting down, she tugged off her jacket, noticing a substantial temperature difference between the chilly hospital room and the almost tropical mugginess here in the squad room.

"Anything for the Storybrooke Sheriff's Department," Smee replied, obviously a tad on the skittish side, but then he always seemed like this so perhaps it was just nature, not nerves.

"We just have a couple of questions for you," she stated as she hung her jacket over the back of the chair and sat down, making Smee even more uncomfortable as she held eye contact with him when she asked her first question. "I'm sure that by now you've heard about the assault that occurred in an alley by the docks yesterday morning?" She wanted to see if he'd answer honestly or try to deny knowledge of the attack. This was a small town after all and Mr. Blackstone had been correct in his assessment that news traveled very quickly – especially bad news. There was no way someone as nosy as Smee wouldn't have heard about the crime.

"You mean what happened to the Captain? Yes – I heard about that," he stated. "It's just awful."

"We've been trying to locate potential witnesses to the attack and someone pointed us in your direction saying they'd seen you near the alley yesterday morning. Were you down in that area between 7am and 7:30?" Emma was quite ready to watch him squirm as she awaited his response.

"Umm…," he fidgeted in the chair, obviously unsure how he should answer. "I was down at the harbor yesterday, but I don't really recall what time that was. It was early, that I know because I was heading up to Granny's for breakfast."

"Did anyone see you at Granny's?" she wondered.

"I never actually made it there. I changed my mind and just went back home," Smee said.

"So you don't remember seeing or passing Hook while you were down by the harbor at all?" David jumped in to ask this question.

"No, sir," the twitching pirate first mate replied. "Didn't see the Captain."

"And you didn't hear anything unusual? No sounds of a struggle or voices coming from the alley?" Emma queried, trying hard to keep everything as generic as possible so she could give him all the rope he needed to hang himself.

"Not that I can recall. Maybe I didn't come through the alley at the right time," Smee stated. Emma already knew he was lying. His body language was telling her that, but she lacked the evidence to accuse him without him making a full confession. What she had yet to realize was that David had a trick up his sleeve that he hadn't divulged to her. She had noticed that it was unusually warm in the station, but she didn't know that he'd intentionally bumped up the thermostat so that it would get uncomfortably stuffy. Both he and Mr. Smee were beginning to show signs of overheating with beads of sweat forming on David's forehead. Smee, slowly cracking under the pressure of being interrogated, already had sweat droplets rolling down the side of his face.

"We're going to have to get that thermostat checked again, aren't we?" David spoke up, stripping off his own leather jacket and laying it across the desktop before him. Initially, Emma wasn't sure what he was referring to, but she caught on quickly to her father's clever _make him sweat it out_ tactic. "Sorry it's so hot in here, Mr. Smee. Damned thing keeps getting stuck. Why don't you take off that heavy coat while we finish up here? It should only be a few more minutes, but you're practically melting over there."

Smee could scarcely hide the guilty expression that crossed his face, even if it was only for a split second. He was sweltering in his heavy woolen coat, but if he took it off, he might not be able to conceal the scrape on his forearm, yet if he didn't take it off, they might grow suspicious that he was trying to hide something. He finally relented, deciding that it would be best just to shrug off the outer garment and decide on a reasonable excuse for the scratch if asked.

"So, we won't be much longer?" Smee asked as he slid the wool coat off and tried to carefully drape it over his arm to hide the scratch, not realizing that David's keen eye had already spotted it.

"No, not too much longer," David assured him, catching a glimpse of the bright red scrape just above Smee's right wrist as he removed his coat. "Nasty looking scratch there…"

"Oh, this?" Smee fumbled for an explanation. "Scraped it up on a nail the other day. No big deal."

"Looks pretty bad," Emma said. "Hope you got a tetanus shot."

"Uh…You think I should?" Smee wondered.

"Wouldn't hurt," she replied. "They may not have had that disease where you came from but here, it's something that can definitely be transmitted by a rusty nail."

"Oh, I guess I'd better look into that," Smee said, looking rather concerned. He knew that the Captain's hook was a lot cleaner and a lot sharper than a rusty old nail, but it still got him thinking about diseases that could be transmitted by metal.

"Just one more question," Emma started as she stood back up. "Have you heard any talk on the street about a pocket watch that went missing from my home during a break in yesterday?" She watched him gulp, but where might he lead her from here?

"Someone broke into your home?" Smee asked sheepishly. "I hadn't heard about that…"

"Yes – sometime yesterday morning while I was out of town and after Killian was attacked. I think it may have been the same person and it seems like the watch was the only item they were after."

"I haven't heard a thing about a watch," the sniveling pirate replied, "but I'll let you know if I do hear anything."

"Appreciate it," she stated. "Thanks again for coming in to talk to us. If we have any additional questions, one of us will be in touch."

"That's it?" Smee asked tentatively, standing up and pulling his coat back on before heading outside, not really believing that they'd bought his story, yet not about to challenge his good fortune either. "Like I said, anything to help the Sheriff. How is the Captain doing anyway?"

"He's in pretty bad shape," Emma told him bluntly. "Whoever attacked him worked him over pretty good. He's lucky to be alive."

"Hope he gets well soon," Smee mumbled timidly, the first completely honest thing he'd said. He then scurried out of the door leaving Emma and David alone to discuss what they'd learned from the conversation.

"Well, there's no doubt he's lying," she stated as soon as Smee was out of earshot. "I just wish we had something more than a shaky witness description to hold him."

"I think we might," David grinned as he opened up the top desk drawer, retrieving a sealed evidence baggie which she saw contained Killian's slightly scuffed up hook.

"I wondered where that went," Emma muttered. "Figured it might be with the rest of his stuff, but I wasn't really sure, not that I've been able to bring myself to go through it."

"If you look closely, we might have enough to at least tie Mr. Smee to the attack…" he said as he passed the evidence bag to her to inspect. The first thing she noticed was the dark reddish brown stain on the point.

"Is that blood?" she asked. "And it's not Killian's?"

"I had the hospital lab take a swab yesterday after I found it. Blood type is different," he replied. "And now, seeing that scratch on Smee's arm, I'll hazard a guess that the blood is his."

"Nice tactic," she smiled. "I wondered why it was so warm in here. How'd you know he'd take the coat off though?"

"I didn't, but it was worth a try. I figured he'd do anything he could to try and convince us he wasn't lying or hiding something. The man may have spent centuries amongst pirates, but deception is definitely not one of his stronger traits."

"Keep an eye on him," she stated. "There's no way he thought this up himself. Someone put him up to it. When he asked about Killian's condition, he was genuinely concerned. I could see it on his face and hear it in his voice. I don't think he really wanted to hurt his friend or didn't realize how much he'd hurt him."

"Yeah, I picked up on that too. Wonder who's pulling his strings?"

"That's one of the questions we still need to answer," she sighed. "We also need to figure out what it had to do with the watch and that coin. I thought for sure that Smee would break when I mentioned the watch, but he actually surprised me by not cracking."

"This is proving to be a far bigger mystery than it originally seemed," David said as he leaned the chair backward to throw his feet up onto the desk."

"Just keep an eye on Smee," she repeated. "The way he squirmed at the mention of the watch means it's definitely the key to solving this. I just need for Killian to get a look at that coin."

"He hasn't woke up again?" David wondered.

"He was conscious for a few minutes earlier. I asked him about the attack, but he doesn't remember much. He did say that he thought someone went through his pockets, so if that someone was Smee, he was definitely looking for something."

"For the watch, you think?"

"That's pretty likely at this point," she replied as she sat down on the corner of the desk, shoving David's crossed legs to the side.

"You didn't have time to show him the coin?" he asked as she let out a deep breath.

"I can't show him the coin," she said with a deep sigh, but the statement only seemed to confuse him. "The head injuries left him temporarily blinded," she explained. "He can't see anything more than light and shadows at this point and probably won't be able to until more of the swelling inside his skull goes down."

"Emma, I'm sorry," David apologized as he lowered his feet back down to the floor and sat up properly in the chair. "I had no idea. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"It's okay, Dad. It really wasn't that big of a deal. As Whale said, it's a minor side effect. Killian wouldn't want everyone feeling sorry for him anyway."

"You're right. He wouldn't appreciate that," David grinned, pleased to see the slightest smile on his daughter's anguished face.

"I'm going to head back over there. Henry is going to stop by after school so I want to be there to prepare him – well, to prepare both of them, I guess."

"Okay. I'll let you know if I see Smee up to anything suspicious," he promised. "I can handle things around here. You've got enough to worry about right now with Hook and the baby…" Emma spun around to face him at the mention of the baby, nearly sliding off the edge of the desk. She didn't even have a chance to ask him how he knew before he chuckled and stated: "You know your mother…"

"I swear this entire town is going to know before I get a chance to tell Killian!"

"It won't come from me and I'll try my best to keep your mother distracted so the subject doesn't get brought up, but I do think you should tell your husband soon. I think it would do him good to hear that he's going to be a dad."

"I know. Whale keeps telling me the same thing. I just need him to stay awake and coherent long enough for me to share the news."

"Well then, get over there and find the time. Like I said, I've got things covered here."


	6. Chapter 6

_12:52pm_

After departing the station, Emma made a quick pit stop at Granny's to pick up some lunch, fielding some questions and accepting some well wishes for Killian while waiting for her food. Well aware of the situation, Granny wouldn't even accept payment for Emma's sandwich and onion rings and had personally added a container of chicken rice soup that smelled absolutely amazing, encouraging her to share some with her husband. The older woman joked that he'd never get better if all he had was the awful slop that the hospital tried to pawn off as food. Thanking Granny for her meal, Emma hurried back to her car, polishing off half of the sandwich on the drive back to the hospital, then finishing the other half along with all of the onion rings before heading inside. She carried the white paper bag containing the soup along with a still too hot to drink take out cup of coffee in her hands as she walked through the automatic doors and made her way to the elevator, already feeling a bit forlorn at the amount of time she'd spent in this place.

She couldn't hide the disappointment on her face when she reached Killian's room, finding he remained unconscious. It had been about an hour and a half since she'd left and she'd hoped he'd be awake by now, but as disheartening as it was, she knew that head injuries were unpredictable. Whale was continually reminding her of that, not that he really needed to. She knew Killian's skull was fractured in two places. He was battling a severe concussion as well as bleeding and swelling inside his skull. All were injuries that she wasn't allowed to heal for him, but the doctor kept assuring her that he was progressing well. Not that it made it any easier to stare at his bandaged head without worrying.

She placed the soup on the counter by the sink and took a quick sip of her coffee as she stood at his side – the whole time hearing her mother's voice lecturing her about drinking coffee while pregnant, but she really didn't care right now. Until her husband was home and out of danger, she'd drink all of the coffee she needed to get through these days and nights. She finally sat the coffee cup next to the soup and flopped herself into the chair, reaching over to grasp his hand and becoming mildly concerned at how frigid his skin felt. At some point, he must have pushed the covers down to his waist, or perhaps they'd simply slipped from movement while he slept, but either way, she didn't want to see him shivering so she stood back up to tug the sheet and blanket up to his shoulders.

"Sneaking up on me, Swan?" he asked with a tiny, weak smile, eyes still closed. He'd sensed her presence even before he'd felt the covers being repositioned atop his chest. He hadn't been completely lucid when she'd arrived, not quite enough to be certain he wasn't dreaming, but enough to know that his head was really aching. Either the painkillers were beginning to wear off or they'd stopped working entirely because his skull throbbed as if he were being beaten all over again. It actually probably hurt more now than when he'd been attacked, but then he'd succumbed to unconsciousness so quickly he hadn't felt most of the pain. Now each time he woke, the pain seemed a little bit more intense, but he knew he had to fight through it. Grin and bear it, Jones, he'd told himself. You've survived worse.

"Maybe you should stop pretending to be asleep," she scolded him. "I was worried you were getting cold."

"A bit. Mostly just sore, a little dizzy and tired, but thank you."

"Do you want me to get the nurse? Have them increase the pain medication?" she suggested.

"No," he stated, extending his hand toward her. She immediately took ahold of it and gave his fingers a little squeeze. "Not right now at least," he continued. "I'll be alright."

"You're sure?"

"Aye, Love," he replied, forcing himself to smile and finally open his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the room's overly bright florescent lights. He was relieved to discover that his sight was returning, even if what he was seeing was still quite blurry. He really didn't know the full extent of his injuries, but they'd undoubtedly been rather grave. Since he'd been drifting in and out of consciousness, he'd only caught bits and pieces of the conversations regarding his condition. Emma had told him about some of them, but not all and she'd admitted that she'd healed a few. He knew his wounds were still critical enough to prevent him from being able to lift his own head from the pillow, but he made himself push through the intense discomfort to turn just enough so that he was eye to eye with his wife. She instantly noticed the difference in his gaze from earlier that morning.

"Your sight's back?!" she exclaimed, seeing a trace of the usual sparkle back in his lapis eyes.

"All's a little fuzzy and right now, I'd swear that there were two of you – not that you'll find me complaining."

"That's wonderful!" she told him as her face lit up with a beaming smile. Could he see well enough to look at the coin though? "Think you can see well enough to take a look at something?"

"I'll try, provided it doesn't require me moving around too much."

"It's small – a coin actually," she said, digging into her pocket to locate the little baggie containing the coin that Mr. Blackstone had discovered. "This was what was found inside your pocket watch. It was preventing the gears from moving properly. It looks really old, but I've never seen anything like it. I was hoping that with all of your travels, it might look familiar to you. I think it might be the key to figuring out who attacked you and why."

"A coin, you say?" The thought of being viciously assaulted in an alleyway for a coin that he didn't even know existed both intrigued and disturbed him. "May I see it?"

"Yes – here…" She placed the coin in his hand, but as he held up the little bag trying to see the coin better, the overhead lights reflecting off of the shiny plastic made it nearly impossible.

"Could you remove it from that protective device?" he asked. "The glare is making it rather difficult to see the detail."

"Sure…one second…" she replied as she retrieved the coin from him, opened the zip top then tipped it directly onto his extended palm. It had scarcely grazed his skin when he suddenly flinched and clamped his fist closed around the coin, almost as if he'd been shocked by it. Perplexed by his odd and instantaneous reaction to the little metal disk - even before he'd looked directly at it, Emma worried that she'd somehow hurt him. "Killian? Are you alright?"

"Fine, Love," he responded after a moment, allowing his fingers to relax. "Just got a bit of a rush there for a moment." He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of thoughts and memories inundated his mind. It was all jumbled odds and ends – Excalibur, the Underworld, Emma and their family. All flooded him at once.

"I'm getting the nurse," she stated, fearing that she'd overwhelmed him too much, but before she could step back from the bedside, he reopened his eyes and stared straight back into hers, freezing her for a moment.

"Emma – no," he insisted. "I'm fine. Something just brought back a rush of memories for some reason. It'll pass."

"Then let's not worry about the coin right now. It can wait."

"No, I swear, I'm fine. I want to look at it. If you're convinced of its importance, I believe you." He maneuvered the coin around in his hand until he had it positioned between his thumb and index finger, then raised his hand in front of his face so he could get the best view of it, blinking a few times in an attempt to get a sharper focus on the minute object. "It's a drachma," he revealed. "Greek. Probably a few hundred years old, maybe more…"

"I thought it looked Greek or Roman."

"Definitely Greek," he repeated, taking a deep breath before continuing with a tale that seemed almost irrelevant. "When I first descended to the Underworld, Hades and his demons were already there to greet me, making it a daily ritual to whip and beat me until I succumbed to whatever version of unconsciousness exists in the realm of the dead. At first, I assumed it was simply the punishment I deserved for my villainous past, but not long after you arrived in the Underworld to rescue me, Hades informed me that he'd tortured me because I'd brought hope to his Underworld. I didn't have the strength to argue the point, but while I'd tried desperately not to let him break my resolve, it didn't make sense. I wasn't the one who'd brought hope – you did. I didn't even have it myself until you arrived…"

"Killian, you don't have to do this. I didn't mean to stir up all of those dark memories. Knowing that the coin is Greek is enough. I don't know what it has to do with Hades, but you don't need to talk about it."

"Actually, I do. Some of the details are still a little hazy, but I remember that during one of the 'sessions' with Hades, he threw a coin like this onto the floor in front of me. I was barely conscious at the time, but I remember him saying that it was tied to my fate. Obviously, I can't be certain that this is the same coin, but it's very similar."

"Why would Hades taunt you with a coin? Seems like a strange object to choose. And why would it have anything to do with your fate?"

"I don't know. I'm sure there were reasons," he sighed. "What's strange to me is that it's been almost two years since those events and suddenly that memory is as clear as if it had occurred yesterday." He closed his fingers around the coin once again while Emma wrapped both of her hands around his in a gesture of support.

"Well, Whale did say brain trauma can be tricky. Maybe that's what unleashed the memories? I'm sure there will be more, but right now, try not to think about it."

"I wasn't really trying to think about anything," he admitted. "That's what's bothering me. The memory was just there." He relaxed his fingers just enough for the coin to drop into her hand. Figuring that it had already triggered enough havoc, she let go of his hand long enough to tuck the coin back into its baggie and shove it into her pocket.

"It doesn't matter," she stated as she sat down beside him on the narrow hospital bed. "Just worry about resting and healing. We have a lot to look forward to and I need you at my side to get through it all."

"And I fully intend to be there, whatever it may be, Swan," he smiled, albeit weakly from talking too much.

"I'm counting on that because I'm not going through this alone." She took ahold of his hand once more but instead of squeezing it or intertwining her fingers with his, she brought his hand toward her, being ever so gentle and careful so as not to dislodge the IV which had gotten slightly tangled. As she placed his open palm across her abdomen, he watched as the corners of her mouth curled into one of the widest smiles he'd ever seen from her and despite the aches in his battered head, Killian Jones nearly bolted upright at the realization behind her gesture. Thankfully, she'd been prepared for his shocked and startled reaction and tenderly placed her hands on his shoulders to hold him down before he regretted the movement.

"Easy…You're not ready for that just yet," she reminded him. "No unnecessary movement."

"Emma…are you? Are we…?" She found herself overflowing with joy at the thought of rendering the ever eloquent Killian Jones virtually speechless. She didn't really need to verbalize her answer because her glowing face said it all, but she wanted to say it out loud. She needed to say it out loud.

"Yes. We're having a baby." In a fraction of a second, the confused expression on his face was replaced with a smile that matched hers in every way possible. He wanted so much to hop out of this bed and sweep her up in his arms, but physically, he couldn't do that so he was a bit surprised when she leaned over to lovingly kiss him as though she'd read his mind and sensed his disappointment over not being able to provide the grand romantic exhibition that this occasion deserved. He vowed that as soon as he was capable, he would demonstrate his gratitude but as she stood back up, he parted his lips to say something only to have her place her index finger across them to stop him from speaking. "Enough talking for now. I know you're excited, but we'll have plenty of time for that"

He knew she was right. She was almost always right. He was exhausted – far more that he was letting show – and still more than a bit unsettled by the long forgotten images of the Underworld. At least when he'd been there, he'd already been dead as Hades pummeled and lashed him. The pain had been excruciating, but it couldn't kill him again. Now he was back amongst the living and this beating had nearly taken his life – and had nearly taken him from his wife and unborn child.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" she suggested, although it sounded more like an order to his ears. "I know you're exhausted. Henry will be coming by after school and I don't want you to over exert yourself." There would be no argument from Killian though. It took no time at all for him to give in to slumber, but unlike previous times, he fell asleep with the joyous thoughts of becoming a father.

 _2:10pm_

Once she was certain he was asleep, Emma retrieved the to-go container of soup and sat back down to eat it, fully intending to save at least some of it for Killian. Once she'd started however, she'd found it every bit as delectable as it smelled and before she knew it, she'd finished every last drop. Dr. Whale probably wouldn't have allowed him to have it anyway, but she still felt a tiny bit guilty that she hadn't shared it with her husband, especially since she'd devoured it while sitting next to him.

And unfortunately for Killian, sleep hadn't remained a pleasant experience as nightmarish images of Hades mocking and terrorizing him kept coming in flashes. He was inundated with memories – visions, acrid smells, unnatural sounds and even the coppery taste of his own blood – all hitting him in a barrage. So many things that he hadn't realized he'd forgotten, pushed to the back of his mind for the sake of his own sanity. All of those blows to the head must have opened up some window in his psyche that he'd clearly closed for a reason, but now, nothing held back that tidal wave. Emma knew as soon as she saw the sheen of sweat on his skin and the twitching of his jaw muscles that his sleep was anything but peaceful. She didn't want to startle him, but she needed to wake him from the fitful nightmare, worried he'd injure himself further while battling whatever monster had materialized in his dream.

She cupped her hands around both sides of his face, softly stroking his cheek with her thumb as she called out his name. "Killian…Killian, wake up…" She felt his body tense and tremble, caught somewhere between the dream state and consciousness. "It's just a nightmare," she calmly reminded him as she reached down to take ahold of his shaking hand while he forced open his eyes, revealing that still apparent trace of fear. "It was just a dream," she continued to reassure him. "It wasn't real."

His breath came in short, hurried spurts as he tried to calm himself from the all too vivid dream. She didn't need to see or hear the monitor to know that his heart was racing, but the rapid spike in his heart rate had drawn the nurse's attention and she immediately came rushing into the room to ensure that her patient wasn't in distress.

"Is everything alright?" the nurse asked, seeing that Killian had awakened and recognizing that he'd clearly been traumatized by something.

"He was having a nightmare," Emma explained. "Everything else is fine." Despite her insistence that he wasn't in any harm, the nurse took a few minutes to check all of his vitals as a formality then returned to her desk to document everything on his chart. As his tension eased, Emma allowed her fingertips to brush back a strand of his dark hair that had worked its way free of the bandages, but in doing so, she also noticed that some of the strips of gauze had slipped a bit over his ear revealing a shaven patch of scalp with an almost perfectly straight sutured incision across it. The cut was short – only about an inch and a half long, but she shuddered involuntary as she remembered what lay beneath those sutures. Ever so delicately, she positioned the bandages back over the incision, not wanting Henry to see that when he arrived. Killian flinched slightly at the disturbance, obviously feeling some discomfort at the site of yesterday's surgery. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "The bandages slipped. I didn't mean for it to hurt."

"It's okay," he said in a hushed voice, allowing his fingers to tighten around hers as the trembling gradually subsided.

"I can call the nurse back in to fix them," she said nervously. She honestly hadn't intended to cause him any more pain, but she didn't want her teenaged son to see the incision and start asking questions that neither of them had the strength to answer.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "Just a little twinge." He wasn't about to let on exactly how much it had really hurt, but she expected that.

"Killian, it is okay to admit that you're in pain. I won't think any less of you. You have several little holes drilled into your skull on top of everything else Smee did to you. I don't expect you to just grit your teeth and push through it all of the time…" He didn't hear everything that she'd said because his brain had paused at the mention of the name _Smee._ The name of his first mate. The name of his oldest friend.

"Did you just say Smee?" he asked as Emma cringed at her blunder. She hadn't meant to blurt out the name, but it was too late now. "What does Mr. Smee have to do with this?"

She sighed heavily and stood there silently for a moment, but she had to tell him the truth. "We have evidence that points to Mr. Smee being the one who attacked you yesterday morning."

His brows knitted in confusion as he tried to make sense of it. "Why would Smee attack me?"

"Most likely, someone put him up to it. Maybe someone blackmailed him or maybe someone hired him. Either way, we think he was after your watch – explaining why he went through your pockets after he attacked you."

"Mr. Smee is scarcely able to decide his own breakfast. If he was my assailant, it was hardly by his own bidding."

"I don't think he meant to do it himself either. That's why my father is keeping an eye on him. We're waiting to see who he runs to, but I don't want you worrying about this. Leave the crime solving to me. You still just need to worry about healing."

"I'll try not to let my thoughts dwell on being betrayed by my first mate…" he grumbled.

"Well, if you're up for a visitor, there's a teenaged boy on his way up who'll be happy to help provide a distraction. I won't let him stay too long though. He'll have homework and you definitely don't need him talking your ear off."

Killian smiled and did his best to push back the unpleasantries. "I'd love to see the lad."

"Let me go see if he's out there somewhere. I told him to wait in the lounge until I came to get him in case you were still sleeping. I'll be right back."

It was probably less than a minute from the moment Emma stepped out of the room until his almost sixteen year old stepson excitedly burst through the doorway, dropping his backpack on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Killian! I'm so glad you're awake!"

"Glad to be awake," the pirate replied with a smirk.

"Go easy on him, kid," Emma grinned as she backed out of the room, using Henry's arrival as a chance to get an errand out of the way. "You boys will have to excuse me for a moment. I have to go make a phone call."

"You looked a lot worse this morning," Henry said as Emma stepped away. "I see Mom healed that horrible looking cut on your face."

"Aye, she did."

"Wish she could heal the rest of your injuries. How's your head?"

"I won't lie to you, lad. It hurts like the devil, but I'll be fine. Been through far worse than this…"

"I suppose. Think you'll get to come home soon?"

"I hope so," Killian laughed, "but it's only been a day. I'm fairly certain that they'll expect me to be able to get out of this bed under my own volition first."

"True," Henry frowned, not having thought much about the physical limitations of his stepfather's injuries. "Until then, I really hope Mom and Grandpa find the person responsible."

"They do have a suspect."

"Anyone I know?" Henry's question seemed so innocent, but with the dynamics of this town, it carried far more meaning than the boy likely intended. And in this case, the reality of it stung.

"Perhaps," Killian stated, trying to keep his reply as vague as possible. "This is Storybrooke."

"Definitely a small pool of suspects around here," Henry said, nearly causing Killian to choke on an unexpected chuckle as he reacted to the boy's statement. "Killian, are you alright?" he asked, worried he'd upset his stepfather with his comment.

"Yes, I'm fine. For a moment there, I just heard your mother's words coming out of your mouth."

"What about his mother?" Emma wondered, having walked back into the room in the middle of Killian's statement.

"Only that she's the most beautiful, bloody brilliant woman I know," the pirate gushed, keeping the boy's utterance between the two of them.

"It's okay, Mom," Henry said. "We were just talking about the case. Killian said you might have a suspect."

"We might," she replied with a quizzical glance over at Killian. "Do I even want to know how you two got on that subject?"

"The boy expressed an interest in finding out who assaulted me. I merely stated that you might have a suspect in the attack, that's all."

"That's all, huh?" Emma grinned. "Come on, kid. Your ten minutes are up. Need to get you over to Regina's to do your homework, then maybe, you can come back over here for another visit after dinner."

"Can't I just do my homework in the waiting area?" Henry begged, not yet ready to leave.

"Not today. Hopefully, if things continue to improve, Dr. Whale will move Killian into a room with more liberal visiting hours. Besides, Regina's already waiting for you. Meet me downstairs and I'll drive you over myself. I just need to talk to Killian alone for a moment."

"Okay," Henry sighed in disappointment. "I'll see you later tonight," he said to Killian as he retrieved his backpack. Emma gave her son a quick pat on the shoulder as he passed her in the doorway before heading to the elevator.

"He wasn't any bother," Killian assured her.

"I'm sure he wasn't, but I have to make a trip to the station and I can't leave him here by himself."

"He wouldn't have been by himself," he reminded her.

"You know what I mean. You're hardly in a position to supervise," she stated as if he didn't quite understand that he was still the patient. "Anyway, as much as you don't want to hear this, it's looking even more likely that it was Smee who attacked you in the alley. I don't have all of the details yet, but apparently he ran straight to Gold."

"What does the bloody crocodile have to do with this?" Killian wondered, clearly vexed at the implication of the Dark One's involvement.

"I wish I knew," she shrugged. "If my theory is correct and either your watch or the coin inside was the intended goal, what would Gold want with them? Neither object would seem to be exceptionally valuable. They just don't seem to be anything that he'd be interested in – at least not enough to coerce someone to steal them when he could have easily just swiped them with magic."

The mere thought of Gold being involved made Killian's head ache even more. He was already having nightmares about Hades and now he'd just learned that Rumplestiltskin might have extorted his first mate into maliciously beating him in an alleyway. What did one have to do with the other? After almost two years, why would anything Hades did to him be of interest to the crocodile?

"I've no idea, Love," he sighed, frustration making him even more wary.

"We'll figure it out. I hate to keep repeating myself, but please, try to get some rest. Hopefully the nightmares will stay away."

"That would be nice," he mumbled.

"Hey – don't be afraid to ask for pain medication if you need it. You don't have to be the tough guy all of the time."

"I wouldn't want you thinking anything less of me," he replied with a devilish grin, making her feel a little less guilty about leaving him as he was acting almost normal again. With a quick kiss on his cheek, she headed out to meet up with Henry and let him attempt to get some sleep and for just a moment, he contemplated ringing the nurse, but he didn't. It wasn't so much that he wanted to tough it out. He really did want something to help dull the pain, but he was concerned that the narcotic pain relievers would also dull his senses. He needed to keep coherent – to keep his mind sharp – even if it meant suffering through pain and suffering those awful images invading his mind. It all had to mean something and even if he was incapacitated by these physical ailments, he was determined to figure out what that was.


	7. Chapter 7

_2:48pm_

Once she'd dropped Henry off at Regina's house, she headed directly to the Sheriff station where David was already awaiting her arrival, standing in front of her office door pacing and wearing the same puzzled look on his face that she'd been sporting all afternoon. What had started out as a straight forward assault case had become a convoluted mystery with a bizarre list of suspects and an even stranger suspected objective. Trying to connect all of the players was becoming as challenging as a shell game, with something new that kept popping up at each turn.

"I'm so confused with all of this," David mumbled as Emma made her way past him and into the office, dropping into her chair and allowing it to spin around to face him as he took a seat on the corner of her desk.

"You and me both," she sighed. "None of this makes a bit of sense. Killian gets attacked by his friend who may or may not be working for Gold. Smee goes running to Gold when he thinks we might be on to him. We find an old Greek coin inside a pocket watch that I bought for Killian weeks ago – a coin that he said looks like one that Hades tossed at him while he was being tortured in the Underworld. Everything points to that coin being the motive behind the attack and the break in of our house, but we didn't even know it existed until today! This is just exhausting…"

"So, the coin is Greek? I gather Hook got his sight back so he was able to identify it?"

"Yes. Thankfully, Whale was correct and the blindness was just a temporary inconvenience."

"And he thinks this coin was somehow tied to Hades? How is that possible?"

"I've no idea. He told me that the coin was a drachma and he had the strangest reaction to it. He'd barely touched it and suddenly he was talking about things that Hades did to him in the Underworld – things he hadn't talked about since he returned. It was like touching it awakened something in his memory that terrifies him, but he doesn't know exactly what that is."

"I've seen objects have strange effects on people before," David reminded her. "Enchanted objects. Cursed objects. They can have a powerful impression on people…"

"But there's nothing about this coin or the watch for that matter that would lead you to believe they were enchanted or cursed. They're just really ordinary. I would have been able to tell if there were any magic attached to them, wouldn't I? I don't even know anymore…"

"Is it possible that you'd only be able to sense the magic if you were the one who put it there – or the one it was intended for?" he suggested.

"What do you mean?" she wondered, intrigued by the probability of his suggestion.

"From what you described, it almost sounds as if the coin seemed to release some of Hook's memories. What if the enchantment or curse on the coin was only meant to affect him?"

"An enchanted coin meant for Killian that was found inside a pocket watch that I decided to purchase on a whim?"

"Stranger things have happened," David smirked with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Here in Storybrooke, I shouldn't be surprised by anything that happens anymore, but if that's the case, what are the odds that I'd find that exact watch and it would end up in Killian's hand?"

"Depends on if you believe in coincidence."

"You know me better than that," she replied snidely.

"Then you have to believe that it was always intended to end up in his hand."

"So I was drawn to the watch to make sure it made its way to Killian? Okay – let's say that's true. Why would it show up now – nearly two years after he…" She couldn't bring herself to utter the words _came back from the dead,_ but David knew exactly what she meant.

"You said he seemed to be remembering a lot of things about the Underworld. Maybe it has to do with something that happened down there that he's trying now to recall?"

"Can't imagine it would be anything good," she lamented. "What could he possibly need to remember about that awful place? Being tortured? Betrayed? Abandoned?"

"I don't know," David admitted with a frustrated groan. "Just like everything else, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I know we'll figure it all out and we'll get to the bottom of this."

She slumped over her desk, resting her head on her forearms, weary both from too little sleep and too much on her mind. Less than 24 hours ago, she'd learned that Killian had nearly been beaten to death in an alleyway. He was a skilled fighter and yet he'd been caught off guard by a friendly predator who knew him too well. Knew how to approach without garnering attention. Knew how Killian would react – which way he'd likely turn so as to catch his blind side. Smee had served him for centuries and would have known all of those things – maybe better than she did – and he'd managed to surprise his Captain. His strikes had nearly been fatal and had it not been for Dr. Hopper walking his dog, her husband might not have been found in time. Even now, while she'd healed most of his wounds, he was still critical. He couldn't move his head without agonizing pain and it would likely be days before he could. He certainly wasn't in any position to defend himself at the moment and she gave herself chills at the unnerving possibility that Gold might be behind all of this. There wasn't much that happened in this town that didn't stem from Rumplestiltskin's handiwork, but how exactly did he fit in? What was he after? If they were to assume that the coin was the same one that Hades had taunted Killian with – however farfetched that idea might be – what would the Dark One want with it? Did Hades tell him something about it? Why did Hades feel the need to taunt Killian with an old coin anyway?

She kept rehashing that thought. Why did Hades toss an old possibly enchanted copper coin at Killian while in the midst of torturing him? The gesture made no sense – unless Hades was the one who enchanted the coin in the first place? But again – WHY? What purpose did it serve? It had to be more than just a means of mocking him…

And then the answer hit her.

"Oh my god, Dad…I think I know what this is about!" She bolted upright with a renewed vigor that caught David by surprise.

"Okay…I'm listening…"

"A moment ago you were talking about how objects could be used to influence and affect people. I've done it myself. In Camelot, I used dreamcatchers to steal everyone's memories. What if Hades used that coin to do something similar to Killian?"

"You think something happened in the Underworld that Hades wanted him to forget?"

"Partially," she said, standing up as she prepared to explain her theory. "I think he wanted to make sure that Killian never remembered something that happened just before he died. Something he likely would have discovered when he arrived in the Underworld if Hades hadn't intervened…"

"Not sure I'm following you yet, but keep going," he encouraged, realizing that parts of this were not going to be pleasant for her to relive.

"When I stabbed him with Excalibur, it broke the curse and released me from the Darkness. We didn't yet know that Gold had tricked us and used a potion to funnel all of the dark magic back to him and we also didn't realize at the time that his trickery had pulled all of the Darkness out of Killian too. The wound that would have killed him in Camelot – it reappeared because he died mortal."

"But Gold told us when we got to the Underworld that Hook died as a Dark One," David recalled.

"Gold lied. He lied about almost everything. Killian didn't have any dark magic left in him when he died so how could he have died a Dark One? If he had, the wound from Excalibur shouldn't have come back. I was simply too distraught at the time to realize that and after he returned, it didn't matter anymore. At least not until now…"

"So if Hook did die mortal, not as a Dark One, why would he think he did? And still – what does that have to do with the coin?"

"I'm getting to that," she smiled. "We know that Gold took all of the dark magic back – took back the Dark curse and tethered himself to the newly formed dagger after Excalibur disintegrated, but I don't think he took all of the magic. My savior magic was left untouched because Gold wasn't interested in light magic."

"He's never been interested in the light side of magic because he believes that his dark magic is more powerful," David said. "I'm just not sure what this has to do with your husband. Hook doesn't have any magic."

"Oh, it has everything to do with Killian, Dad. When we first got to the Underworld, Regina's magic didn't work like she'd thought it would and Zelena completely lost control of hers. Only mine never faltered. Dark magic was definitely affected by something down there, but it had no effect on light magic. I think this is especially significant because Hades seemed to be highly affected by light magic. He'd told Killian that he'd beaten and terrorized him because he'd brought hope to his Underworld, but I don't think that was entirely true. I think he targeted Killian because he'd unknowingly brought light magic to his domain."

"But Hook doesn't have any magic," David repeated.

"What if he does and just had no way to remember that he did?" she theorized. "I tethered Killian's life to Excalibur when I couldn't let him go in Camelot, pulling all of Merlin's power and magic with it – both light and dark. No one except Merlin and Killian had been tethered to the sword so it still possessed both types of magic when I joined it with the dagger. When Gold stole back the Darkness, the light magic didn't just vanish. I was left with part of it and I'll bet Killian was too. He just died before he could harness it. We all know that it obviously took me a while to figure it out…"

"That's one hell of a theory," he said, shaking his head at the reality that every single word she'd said was entirely probable, yet they lacked proof of any of it. "If you're correct, the injuries that Killian suffered at Hades' hand were meant to keep him from finding out he still had magic?"

"It sorta makes sense," she stated, picking up on her father's use of her husband's given name. "He told me that Hades and his goons worked him over on a nearly constant basis from the moment he arrived in the Underworld. I think it was all meant as a distraction at first, but you know how stubborn my husband can be. Hades must have used the coin to suppress the memory entirely – with Hades assuming that the coin would never make its way back to Killian."

"But as far as we know, he didn't lose any other memories, right?"

"It might have been used to take away just that single memory – or potential memory. The fact is, he's suddenly having all of these flashbacks so it stands to reason that the memories were suppressed before he learned that secret and now, with things already jumbled in his injured brain, he still hasn't completely figured it out but the pieces of the puzzle are dropping into place."

"Okay then – back to Gold. What's his angle in this?"

"My guess would be that he somehow sensed the magic in the coin, but there must have been some reason that he couldn't go after it himself, so he had to send Smee instead. Maybe he couldn't touch it himself?"

"If you did give Hook all of Merlin's magic and he does still have some of it, we're talking ancient, Holy Grail magic. Nothing would ruin Gold's day more than the possibility that the pirate he's been at odds with for centuries might find a way to harness that kind of magic. That would upset the balance of power for sure."

"My point exactly," she stated. "I'd never even considered the possibility that Killian could still have magic because until now, we didn't have a reason to. He's never shown any signs of it or expressed that he missed it. If that coin unlocked his magic or memories that he has magical powers, we're looking at a huge shift in the town's dynamics."

"I think you need to go have a talk with your husband," David insisted. "Unless you think talking to him about possibly having light magic might be too much for him to deal with right now?"

"It might be, but somehow, we have to figure out if magic is the actual catalyst behind this. Plus, if Gold did actually hire or blackmail Mr. Smee into stealing the watch, he can't be too pleased that he failed."

"Do you think that Gold would have the audacity to confront Hook himself?" David wondered, worried that this might be the start of a full scale attack against his family.

"This is Gold we're talking about. It'll likely depend on whether or not he views Killian as a threat."

"What do you think?" he asked her point blank.

"I honestly think it will depend on what Killian remembers. He may have residual magic left from Excalibur, but that doesn't mean he knows how to access it or control it. And remember, this is all still speculation," she reiterated. "Just because my instincts are telling me one thing doesn't necessarily mean that it's true. We still need a lot more evidence than we have." She paced about her office for a moment, silently contemplating her next move. Should they drag Smee back in and push him for more information? Should she go straight to Killian and do whatever she could to jog his memory? And worst of all – what should they do about Gold? The last thing she wanted to do was to confront him because she knew he'd only deny involvement, but he'd definitely spent more time around Hades than anyone other than Zelena while they were stuck in the Underworld. Had Hades mentioned messing with Killian's memories? Or maybe Gold just figured it out from something else that was said. Either way, it was highly probable that the Lord of the Underworld and the Dark One had a conversation at some point that referenced Hades' actions toward Killian. She couldn't imagine Hades not taking a moment to gloat about nearly breaking the pirate that Rumplestiltskin couldn't. Hades was far too smug for that and she could definitely see Gold getting just a tiny bit jealous.

How did things suddenly get so complicated? Well, more complicated than usual…

"Emma? You okay? You seem lost in thought?" David asked, snapping her back to reality.

"Sorry, I guess I was," she replied in a low, almost forlorn tone. This entire case was taking a huge physical and emotional toll on her and it was beginning to show through the cracks in her typically steadfast façade. "I guess I really need to go have a long talk with Killian…"

"Do you want me to keep watching Smee?" he wondered.

"Maybe not as closely, but don't let him get too far out of your sight," she replied as she stepped out of her office and started toward the front door, stopping just short as she turned back to face David. "And let me know if Gold does anything to raise your suspicions too."

"You want me to spy on Gold?" he asked incredulously.

"Not really spy – observe. Wouldn't be the first time you've done that though, right?"

"No, not hardly," he laughed. Guess it was time to head back out on patrol.

 _4:10pm_

Of course, as soon as she'd left the station, the earlier sunshine and blue skies had given way to late afternoon drizzle so by the time Emma arrived back to the hospital and stepped out of the elevator, her unkempt blonde locks and caramel colored leather jacket were both speckled with raindrops. It wasn't really enough to feel the dampness, but she still had an urge to go find a towel so she could dry off a bit, not that she was going to get the chance. No sooner had the doors opened when she found herself making eye contact with Dr. Whale who swiftly intercepted her before she could reach the nurse's station.

"Emma – just the person I was looking for," he said as he positioned himself between the sheriff and her intended destination. "May I have a moment to talk with you?" He gestured off to his left to the little closet of a waiting room, exactly as he had nearly twenty four hours earlier.

"Is something wrong?" she wondered, unable to disguise the hint of panic in her question. Whale picked up on her uncertain tone immediately and reassured her.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong," he stated as she entered the tiny room and tentatively took a seat on the battered sofa. "I just wanted to give you some updates and have a quick conversation, that's all." Relieved that she wasn't being cornered with anything serious, she allowed some of the tension to drain away. Instead of sitting opposite her, this time the doctor sat down on the sofa beside her to give the appearance of a friendly chat instead of a clinical lecture.

"I was worried you had more bad news for me," she said solemnly as she smoothed out her rain-slicked hair and turned slightly to her right to face him. "Everything is still okay with Killian?"

"Aside from a sudden plague of nightmares, he's still doing far better than my expectations. I did finally convince him to take a mild sedative so he could get some rest because those intense dreams have been having a negative effect on his blood pressure. He's still at risk for the bleeding to return so for his own good, I had to override his protests against the sedative and additional pain medication."

"He didn't want to have to rely on more drugs," she explained. "He's trying to uphold the whole dread pirate image."

"Which is partially why I only gave him a very mild dose," Whale laughed, knowing full well how awful a patient the pirate was being. "It's not something I would normally do for someone with such a severe concussion, but he needs the rest. It'll enable him to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, and we're obviously monitoring him closely. If we can get him to 48 hours post-op with no residual complications, we'll plan to move him out of intensive care and start a rehab regime. If all goes well, you can have him home in a few days." Whale then slyly shifted the topic of conversation to a very different, yet equally as important subject. "So…have you told him?"

"Yes," she responded, letting a smile stretch across her face as the earlier trepidation subsided. "Earlier today when he was awake and able to talk a bit longer. I don't think that the news has completely sunk in, but it definitely made him very happy."

"As I thought it might. It's a great motivator for his recovery, but while we're on this subject, I want to ask a few questions about you. The past few hours have obviously been extremely stressful. I'm just a little concerned that it could be affecting the baby."

"I think we're handling it fairly well, as well as can be expected at least, all things considered. Although today all I seem to want to do is eat everything in sight! Thankfully, everything is staying down – well, so far at least."

"So, no major problems with nausea or morning sickness?"

"Nothing drastic. It's been manageable so far, but I'm sure that will change."

"Well, I'd like to do a quick ultrasound so we can make sure everything is okay with your pregnancy since the only thing we've done so far is a blood test? I'd like to establish how far along you are…"

"Fine…," she said, with a deep sigh. "It's probably a good idea since I haven't exactly been able to schedule that follow-up appointment yet…"

"You certainly don't seem to have a lot of enthusiasm about this," he replied, noting her frustration and obvious hesitation.

"I was hoping that the first ultrasound would be something I'd have Killian at my side for… None of this is what I'd envisioned…"

"I do understand that things aren't going according to plan, but they rarely do. The most important thing is that you and the baby are healthy. I'm sure your husband would believe that as well, so let's go see how the littlest Jones patient is developing, alright?"

"Fine," she agreed, repeating her earlier response, but in a cheerier tone this time.

Nearly forty minutes later, Emma was finally able to wander into Killian's room again, clutching tightly to the black and white print out from the ultrasound – one that had not only verified that Baby Jones was thriving and had a strong, steady heartbeat, but also provided a small surprise when the baby's measurements put her a little further along in the pregnancy than she'd thought. Almost a month further along, to be exact. When she'd gotten the positive blood test last week, it had been her own estimate that she'd been around eight weeks along – partially due to her own procrastination with getting the test done after a home test had displayed a little blue plus sign two weeks ago. She'd only had the confirmation test done, just to identify if she was actually pregnant. She was supposed to go back for a quantative blood test to determine the actual levels of the pregnancy hormone in her system, but she hadn't gotten around to it before leaving for Boston, but now she had that more definitive answer – somewhere between eleven and twelve weeks. Almost through the first trimester and she'd had nothing that would have led her to believe she was this far along - which of course meant less time to prepare. Less time to put together a nursery and come up with baby names…

This was beginning to get all too real all too quickly, but instead of being able to celebrate and prepare for their new addition, she was reminded of having to deal with the reality of a critically injured husband whose condition could change in an instant. She needed him to be by her side for this upcoming journey and as she approached him, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety as she waited to share the first image of their child, but thanks to the sedative, he was still sound asleep. She hovered above him for a moment staring down at the image in her hand – a bright little blob against a dark background that was clear enough to distinguish the oversized head, round little body and teeny arm and leg buds. She couldn't help but start wondering if this itty bitty child would have Killian's brilliant blue eyes or would they be a deep, smoky olivine like her own? Would they have a daughter with dark curls or a tow-headed son? Or would it be the other way around with this child being a miniature version of one of them? That seemed an almost sobering thought…

She lingered at his side for a few more minutes, waiting to see if he'd respond to her presence, but after another ten minutes, he hadn't even stirred slightly so she'd finally folded the ultrasound image and tucked it safely away into the back pocket of her jeans as she leaned over to tenderly kiss his forehead. "I'll be back later tonight," she promised. "I'll bring Henry by for a little while – maybe more than just ten minutes this time if you're up to it… I love you." She thought she saw a faint smile forming on his lips, but he remained asleep – at least she was fairly certain he was still sleeping, unless the pirate was doing an excellent job of faking it. Either way, she was ready to head home for a shower, a change of clothes and definitely some dinner to appease baby's appetite. "See you later, pirate," she grinned, giving him one last little smooch on the cheek before departing.

 _5:19pm_

The truth of the matter was that Killian hadn't been pretending at all. He'd simply been dreaming – the first pleasant one he'd had during this ordeal, even if he couldn't recall the details as he woke. It was surprisingly quiet this early evening – no nurses pestering him and Dr. Whale hadn't returned since convincing him to accept the sedative. Just the now familiar humming and beeping of monitors and machines – not that he knew what any of them were actually for. He did find himself struck with a slight pang of disappointment as he forced his eyelids open and failed to see his wife by his side, but he remembered that it would be selfish of him to assume that she wouldn't take advantage of his slumber to take care of her own necessities. Perhaps she'd needed to get some work finished or, considering the hour, she may have simply headed home to grab a change of clothing and something for dinner. After all, she was eating for two now – assuming he hadn't dreamt that entire conversation.

He was moderately surprised to realize that he was actually hungry himself. Food hadn't even been on his mind until now, but was that a good sign? He'd figured out that the narrow plastic tubing that attached to the annoying needle protruding from the back of his hand was there to provide basic nourishment as well as medication, but if he was going to get any strength back, this clear liquid couldn't possibly be enough. He wondered if the doctor would allow him to eat anything that could be considered sustenance – reminded of the foreign blue blob that had been left for him some years back in this same place, but he doubted that thought. He probably wouldn't be allowed anything until he could at least hold his head up under his own accord, but the pain was still excruciating. Each time he woke, he hoped that the pain would lessen, but rather it seemed to be getting worse. Perhaps it was due to his own stubborn refusal of the desensitizing drugs, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that he may have to relent soon.

Earlier that afternoon, one of the nurses had assisted him with adjusting the bed, surprising him a bit when he discovered that it could be raised further so that his head was now high enough to see out toward the corridor and the nurses' desk without having to strain and move his aching cranium too much. At least being able to view the activity outside of the tiny room's four walls assuaged the loneliness when Emma wasn't here to keep him company. And now, from his vantage point, he had a direct line of sight to the desk where a blonde nurse stood with her back to him, staring intently at something in her left hand.

Only something didn't look quite right with the scene. He was fully aware that while he was just awakening from a drug induced slumber, but to his bleary eyes, it almost appeared that the lass was frozen in place. Were his eyes deceiving him? Was he even actually awake or was this merely a figment of a dream? A somewhat ill-advised attempt to lift his head from the pillow confirmed with little doubt that this definitely wasn't a dream as a flash of pain thundered through his skull, radiating down his neck and into his shoulders. He was nearly convinced that he was hallucinating when a soft chuckle off to his left alerted him to the disturbing fact that he wasn't alone…

"I'll have to give our friend, Mr. Smee quite a bit of credit for this one," a gravelly voice spoke up from the far corner of the room – a spot that Killian wasn't able to see without turning his head further than he was currently capable of doing. "He truly outdid himself…"

Killian squeezed his eyelids closed tightly, his hand curling into a fist as tried to suppress his ire and even his fear as he had no need to see his visitor to know precisely who was present – and it was the last person he wanted to encounter in this condition. "Bloody crocodile…," he hissed. "What the hell do you want?"

"Is it such a crime to pay a visit to an ailing old friend?" Gold asked with a wicked sneer, taking a step away from the wall to bring himself into the pirate's view.

"It is if you're the one who blackmailed my first mate into doing your dirty deeds," Killian snapped back knowing that words were his only defense.

"I have to say that I didn't think the little rat had it in him. I only asked him to procure a certain watch for me, but this – this far exceeded my expectations." The sickening smile on his face riled Killian's stomach nearly to the verge of vomiting.

"Afraid to come and get it yourself? Still a coward after all of these centuries…"

"Oh, I would have done it if needed, but this was so much more satisfying – the sheer delight of watching your weasel of a first mate betray you – which of course left nothing that ties directly back to me."

"Except Mr. Smee. What exactly did you threaten him with?"

"Nothing you need to worry yourself over and please - don't think that I'm even the least bit concerned about Smee running to your wife and the prince. Even if he talks, it's his word against mine and all of the physical evidence points solely at him. But I'm not at all worried that Smee will say anything about my involvement. He's too frightened that I'll turn him back into a rat."

"What do you need with a pocket watch anyway? I'm certain you have dozens in your vast collection of trinkets. What's so valuable about this one?"

"Oh, it wasn't the watch I was interested in," Gold admitted. "It's what's inside – a very special object that just recently found its way here to Storybrooke."

For a moment, Killian recognized that he had a slight tactical advantage. Gold was assuming that he didn't know anything about the coin, but they'd already found it. He had already held it in his hand and through a series of haunting nightmares, had stumbled onto its purpose.

"You mean that old, patina crusted coin that Hades enchanted to bind certain memories of mine?"

The incredulous look on the Dark One's face was all he needed to see to verify he'd come to the correct conclusion.

"So you've found it?" It was clear that the crocodile was none too pleased with this development.

"Aye," Killian replied with a smirk, trying to cover his apprehension with a veil of overconfidence. "'Fraid we discovered it before you had the opportunity to intercept it. My memories are already returning and if I'm correct – this is all about Excalibur's light magic that you failed to take from me when you stole the dark powers back."

"You do surprise me at times, pirate, but you're hardly in a position to challenge me. I took the liberty of glancing over your chart while you were asleep," he paused for a moment as the clipboard with Dr. Whale's notes and all of the nurses' documentation of everything from the medication they'd administered to the hourly record of his vital signs materialized in Gold's hand. "This was quite the interesting read and it would appear that your wife spared you a great deal of discomfort by healing your broken ribs and punctured lung – even your fractured stub of an arm…" Killian self-consciously shifted his maimed arm beneath the blanket. "The fearsome Captain Hook simply isn't so intimidating without his hook and even less intimidating with your damaged head swathed in bandages."

"If you're here to finish me off, you know that Emma will figure out that you're behind this."

"Behind what?" Gold chuckled. "I'm not the one who split your head open and I've no intention of laying a finger on you, but at the same time, I just can't have you figuring out how to harness all of those powers."

Killian stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the rectangular panels and florescent lights above him as he contemplated what Gold could possibly have in mind for him. Hades had tortured him for days – maybe longer - and purloined his memories to prevent him from discovering that the crocodile had only taken back the dark magic. He'd seen with his own eyes the effects that light magic had on the Underworld. Hades had clearly viewed it as a threat and had no intention of allowing Killian a moment's peace until those memories were safely suppressed. Of course, condemning him to the River of Lost Souls would have taken care of that permanently had Emma not rescued him. And now, here he was, returned face to face with a familiar foe and even if he did possess magical powers, he had no idea how to channel them. When Emma had turned him into a Dark One, the magic – the dark energy – had just been there. He didn't have to think about what to do. He just willed it to happen, and it did. This was different - a lot different. He hadn't experienced any physical changes and felt nothing coursing through his veins like the Darkness once had.

But if it was there somewhere…

"We both know that I'm too much of a threat for you," Killian stated, fully convinced that Rumplestiltskin wasn't going to allow him to live long enough to learn the truth. "If I do possess all of the Sorcerer's light magic, I know you'd never pass up the opportunity to kill me, but everyone will know that it was your doing…"

"Who says I intend to pass it up though?" Gold laughed again, a sound so sinister that it had sent Killian's heart racing, and with the monitor in clear view, there was no way to disguise it. "I don't even need to touch you. Those tiny broken blood vessels inside your skull will take care of that for me. All I have to do is open them back up again and ensure that no one gets to you before you slip back into a coma again…or worse…" He scarcely needed to raise a hand to set his plan into action, watching with gleeful delight as his long-time nemesis' face drained of color.

While horrified at the probability that aid wouldn't reach him in time, the pirate was still determined not to go out with a whimper as he mustered every remaining bit of strength he could to lunge toward the Dark One's throat, but the crocodile vanished in a puff of smoke as Killian collapsed against the bed's rigid plastic safety railing – it alone preventing him from falling all the way to the tiled floor. Alarms began to sound on the machines in the room as well as at the receiving monitors at the nurse's station, yet she remained immobilized under Gold's spell.

But the louder the alarms became, the less he heard them as he fought the torrential waves of sheer agony that bombarded his head incessantly. He felt a faint trickle of blood flowing from one nostril as he struggled to force himself back up, but his fortitude was failing him. He finally just rested his weary head against the railing and let himself yield to the pull of the darkness…


	8. Chapter 8

_6:02pm_

This isn't right was the first thought that crossed Emma's mind as she bolted awake from a dream, an enveloping air of dread encroaching around her. She recalled stopping at her parent's loft at her mother's insistence having been promised a shower and some easy to transport food and snacks that wouldn't require heating or refrigeration – items that Snow was already preparing as soon as she'd arrived. At some point, she'd settled down onto the sofa with intentions to have a family conversation, but as she'd allowed herself to relax, she'd fallen asleep before they'd even begun to talk. Knowing how difficult the past few hours had been for her, her parents had allowed her the rest, but now, Emma was regretting not remaining alert.

"What time is it?" was the first question out of her mouth as she awakened, slightly startling her mother who'd been busy making dinner.

"It's a little after six," Snow told her while passing a roll of paper towels across the island to David who was actively engaged in battle with nearly three year old Neal who was more interested in launching his dinner than eating it. "Emma, are you okay, honey?"

"How long was I asleep?" was her second question, deflecting her mother's query.

"About forty five minutes. You were exhausted – at least you must have been to sleep through meal time with this one…" Snow gestured toward the toddler as he squealed an eardrum shattering "NO!" while flinging a green bean from his high chair tray.

"I've got to go," Emma said as she pushed herself up from the sofa with a somewhat distraught look on her face that her mother recognized instantly.

"What's wrong?" Snow demanded, abandoning the pots and pans ob the stove to confront her daughter.

"It's Killian," Emma replied with a note of fear making her voice quiver and a hint of not fully awake desperation in her gaze that would have concerned any mom. Emma's instincts were rarely wrong when it came to the connection she and Killian shared. "Something's wrong. I've got to get back over there…"

"Okay, why don't you let me drive you?" David offered, happily jumping at an opportunity to no longer be the target of his son's flying food scraps. She almost told him no, but as she dug through her pockets to locate her cell phone, she found a message indicated on the display, her words catching in her throat before they could formulate.

"Dad, where is Killian's phone?" She asked after a moment of silence when she opened the text message that was waiting for her.

"Unless you retrieved it when you were at the station earlier, it should still be in the evidence locker with the rest of his stuff."

"I haven't touched any of his things in that evidence bag. You're certain you didn't leave it with him at the hospital?"

"There wouldn't have been a reason to since he was unconscious and I'm pretty sure the phone was listed on the inventory sheet they gave me. I'm sure everything is still together…"

"Ok, then who the hell sent me this?" she asked, turning her phone around to show them a message that she'd received just fifteen minutes earlier – a message that simply repeated the same three letters over and over again – S.O.S.

"What the hell?" David was as dumbfounded as she was seeing that the sender was listed as Killian. How could a phone that was locked in evidence be sending out a text message – especially an SOS? There wasn't much time to even contemplate the origin of the mysterious text message when Emma's phone started to vibrate and the Caller ID revealed it to be from Storybrooke Hospital.

"It's the hospital," Emma blanched, bracing herself for whatever the call might be. Snow scooped up the unruly toddler and ushered him quickly into the bathroom to clean him up – and to give his sister some quiet as she answered the call. "This is Emma," she said stoically as she picked up.

"Emma, I'm glad I reached you. It's Dr. Whale," he identified himself, although she'd already recognized the voice. "Are you heading back here soon?"

"I can be there in a few minutes. Is something wrong?" she asked, but in the pit of her stomach, she already knew the answer to the question.

"We've had a bit of a setback…" the doctor said.

"Setback? What kind of setback?"

"As you know, I don't really like to go into detail over the phone, but one of the nurses found your husband unresponsive a few minutes ago. We're running tests to be certain, but it appears he suffered a massive seizure which may have renewed the intracranial bleeding. He's in Radiology undergoing a CT scan right now to determine if that's the case and he's slipped back into a comatose state, but I'll fill you in on the rest of the details when you get here."

"I'm on my way," she replied, tapping the end call button.

"Emma, what is it?" David asked her. He'd heard the word 'setback' in the conversation and seen his daughter's reaction to it. Things definitely weren't looking good.

"That was Whale. Killian may have suffered a seizure. Whale said he slipped back into a coma and they're worried the bleeding started again…" Her voice was shaking as she shoved her phone back into her pocket and made her way toward the front door.

"That settles it," David said as he reached over and tugged his jacket off the back of the chair where it had been hanging. "You're not going alone. I'm driving." He knew she was about to object so he threw up a hand to stop her before the words could exit her mouth. "No arguments."

 _6:24pm_

Less than fifteen minutes later – and several broken traffic laws by the Sheriff – Emma found herself back in the same position she'd been facing exactly one day earlier. She stood at Killian's side, eyes fixed on his face as he lay there silently. Just a few hours ago, she'd left him here sleeping, but now… Not even the sweet sound of her voice could wake him. Just behind her, she could hear Whale's voice attempting to explain what had happened, but she was only hearing a portion of his words as her gaze remained transfixed on her comatose husband. His skin had gone pale and ashen again and she didn't even need to imagine that there was no sparkle left behind his closed eyelids. Maybe she shouldn't have left… She should have stayed at his bedside earlier until he woke. Maybe she could have prevented the seizure…

By Whale's own admittance, they really didn't know what had transpired. The theory was that sometime in the past hour, Killian had suffered a massive seizure – either just before or potentially just after the hematoma had begun reforming inside his skull. His heart rate and blood pressure had shot up to dangerous levels in the midst of the seizure, but by the time the alarms sounded on the monitors, the nurse arrived to find him slumped against the bedside railing in full arrest. They'd been able to resuscitate him quickly, but he'd lapsed back into a coma. The latest CT scans showed renewed and substantial bleeding that had expanded into a larger area than yesterday and it was clearly something that Dr. Whale was extremely concerned about. He rambled on about blood clots and aneurysms and potential for a stroke, but it was all too much to take in. All she could do was stand there as a single tear rolled down her cheek, ending up at the corner of her mouth were she could taste the bitter saline, her unraveling emotions not knowing if she should be morose or angry right now.

Just a few hours ago, he'd been laughing and smiling. He'd been actively trying to help them solve the mystery behind that Greek coin and how it had ended up inside his watch, but now, they were right back to where they'd been yesterday with his head injuries. He was just lying there so still as Emma stood above him, clinging to his hand as though she could squeeze the life back into him while Whale spelled out their options. And there weren't many. As far as Whale was concerned, surgery was Killian's best option, but it wasn't without risk. This hematoma was quite a bit larger than the one they'd drained yesterday and had formed in a different part of his cranium. It would require cutting through his skull very close to a vital lobe of his cerebrum to reach the expanding pool of blood that was extruding so much pressure on his brain.

The surgical option wasn't without hazards, but their second option so far remained entirely unspoken and while equally dangerous, it was the only possibility that was on Emma's mind. Whale implored her to agree to the surgery knowing they were running short on time. It had been successful before, he'd reminded her, despite the current setback, but she wasn't even considering it.

"No," she finally spoke up, interrupting the doctor's surgical sales pitch. "No, I can't put him through all of that pain again." She squeezed his hand again tightly, knowing that her decision was going to have repercussions for more than just Killian's survival – the painful reminder of that tucked away in the pocket of her jeans. Placing his hand down atop his chest, she let go long enough to locate the folded ultrasound image and retrieve it from her pocket. Tears continued to well in her eyes as she unfurled the three inch by five inch print, sliding her thumb across the shiny surface of the paper, pausing atop the slightly blurry image of the tiny person growing inside her.

No one dared say a word as she placed the ultrasound printout on top of Killian's chest – directly over his heart, then she lifted his hand and tenderly positioned it over the image of their baby. Her mind was already made up. She knew using magic could come with a price, but she'd already seen him suffer enough.

"Emma, are you sure about this?" she heard her father ask.

"There's no other choice as far as I'm concerned," she replied in a whisper. "Surgery is as much of a gamble as me attempting to heal him. One wrong move either way and I'll lose him forever – we lose him forever," she corrected herself, then turned around to face Whale. "We tried it your way once, and while I do appreciate everything you did," she stated as she justified her decision, "now, we try it my way…" She was determined that this would work and she knew in her heart that her husband would agree that it was worth the effort. There were just no guarantees either way.

She held her open palm just above his face with her palm toward him, trembling slightly as she closed her eyes while the bright pale golden glow emanated from her fingertips. Squeezing her eyelids even tighter, she concentrated on her task, slowly waving her hand over her husband's head, moving from left to right as Dr. Whale and her father looked on. The process was quick but she didn't have many visual clues to let her know if she'd been successful. She had no way to know if the fractures were healed or if the bleeding had ceased unless Killian woke instantly to tell her – but he didn't.

He remained unconscious as she gingerly lifted the edge of the gauze bandages covering the site of the surgical incision over his ear – the only actual visual reference she had - relieved to find the wound completely healed (although she'd have to fix the little bare patch of scalp where his hair hadn't grown back). If the incision was healed, she had faith that she'd healed the rest of his wounds but his system needed a little more time to recuperate.

"Do you think it worked?" David asked, placing a comforting hand onto his daughter's shoulder as she let out a deep exhale and settled down into the armchair at Killian's side once again.

"I think so," she replied, still trying to exorcise that little ghost of doubt as to whether or not she'd done the right thing while they awaited a response from Killian.

"We should probably give him a few minutes to come around. He's suffered a great deal of trauma," Dr. Whale stated as he scribbled notes onto the chart while glancing over at all of the monitors and recording various readings. "We'll certainly need to run some additional tests to ensure that all of the damage is healed since the majority of his injuries aren't visible externally." The doctor completed his tasks and exited the room to relay the latest developments to the nursing team, leaving Emma and David there without another word.

Finding it slightly – and rather awkwardly – uncomfortable standing over his grown daughter as she waited for her husband to open his eyes, David had to think of something that would allow him to step away without offending her. Food was the first thing that crossed his mind as he remembered what had worked best when Snow was pregnant.

"Do you want me to go get the bag of snacks your mother sent for you?" he asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "You know she wasn't going to let me out of the loft without it. I left everything down in the truck."

"Thanks," she replied with a miniscule, but genuine smile. "I'm not really hungry right now, but then this kid has been ravenous today. Guess I'd better eat something before I get the urge to devour everything on Granny's menu."

"I'll be right back," David laughed. "I remember those days with your mother. Never been more frightened in my life…"

"Dad!" she exclaimed with a chuckle. "I'm going to tell her that!"

"Go ahead. She knows it anyway," he grinned as he strolled out of the room and made his into the corridor. "Be right back." Seconds later, he disappeared behind the closing elevator doors and it wasn't even a full minute after he'd exited when Emma spied a sly smile stretching across her husband's lips as he slowly rotated his head toward her.

"Thought they'd never leave," he smirked as he opened his eyes to meet his wife's gaze which reflected a mixture of emotions from relieved to slightly perturbed.

"How long have you been awake?" she demanded with a forced frown on her face, but his sparkling lapis eyes were already making it difficult to maintain her fierce front.

"Long enough to hear your father heading out to make sure you had something to eat," he laughed, seeing the cracks in her stern visage, but after that moment of brevity, he allowed his tone to shift to a more serious one. "What made you finally decide to usurp Whale's concerns?"

"You didn't exactly leave me with much of a choice. It was either put you through another painful, possibly dangerous surgery or take a gamble on using magic to heal you myself. Seeing you awake right now means that at least part of my efforts paid off, but be prepared – Whale still plans to subject you to a slew of tests and scans."

"I'll forgive the inconvenience if it means the splitting headaches will soon subside," he stated as he pushed his elbows into the mattress in an attempt to force himself into a more upright position. While the movement wasn't as painful as it had been earlier, he still found himself failing as he was forced back by a bout of vertigo.

"Easy…," she scolded him, gently pressing his shoulders back against the pillow. "I may have healed some of your physical injuries, but we don't know for sure if you're 100% yet."

"Clearly not," he frowned, frustrated with himself for attempting such a rash action. "It would appear that my recovery isn't quite progressing as you'd expected…"

"Your recovery is progressing just fine," she assured him. "Thankfully I know you and that stubborn, hard head of yours."

"Indeed," he smirked, his left eyebrow lifting up as he noticed a slip of paper that had fluttered off of his chest when he'd made the attempt to sit up, falling onto the mattress beside him. "What's this?" he wondered as he retrieved it, looking quizzically at it until he suddenly realized that he'd seen something similar once before – an image that Robin Hood had once shown him on that tiny electronic screen. The blurry image of the infant inside Zelena's womb. He couldn't stop the tears that welled in his eyes as he raised his chin to look up at his wife. "Is this an image of our child?"

Emma smiled softly, trying desperately to rein in her overwhelming joy in an effort to prevent smothering him with an abundance of overdue kisses. "First photo of Baby Jones."

"I'll wager a bet that she'll be every bit as beautiful and brilliant as her mother," he stated, an expression of complete and utter elation plastered on his face as he clutched the ultrasound image.

Emma leaned in to kiss him before they were inevitably interrupted and then as she gradually pulled her lips away from his, she asked: "What makes you so sure it's a girl?"

"Call it a hunch," he grinned, but she wasn't buying it. "Alright, suffice it to say that part of me hopes it is a girl because if she's half as strong and fearless as her mother, I know she'll have a bright future." Even after all their time together, Emma still found her cheeks flushing a bit at his compliment. After everything they'd been through, he could still make her blush like a timid little school girl. How did he have that effect on her?

"Well, if it's a boy, if he's half as clever and selfless as his father, he'll have an equally bright future."

"Aye, Love," he replied, finding his own cheeks and ears reddening a bit as she returned the compliment. Oh, how he loved this woman! "Just glad the bloody crocodile didn't succeed in taking me away from our child."

"Gold was here?" Now she was even angrier with herself for not staying at his side earlier.

"Aye, he paid me a visit. He knew about the watch and the coin inside and had already speculated that it had something to do with a very specific memory of mine that Hades tampered with. He coerced my first mate into stealing the watch for him, but when that didn't go as planned, he made things a little more personal."

"So that would mean my theory was right," Emma told him, noting his confusion at her statement. "The way you reacted to the coin after touching it…It released the memories, right?"

"It would appear that way," he responded, now realizing what she'd been implying. "The Dark One was hoping to intercept the coin before I discovered it and had the fortune to touch it, but when that failed, he used his dark powers to force the bleeding to recur after immobilizing the hospital staff under a spell so they couldn't respond to any of the warnings from these machines."

"Gold was worried about you touching that coin…Why?" She already had a very good idea of what his answer was going to be, but she needed Killian to confirm what she'd theorized.

"He was determined to prevent me from discovering that I'd died still possessing light magic – which I likely would have learned quickly in the Underworld had Hades not interfered. I have no idea the extent of the powers or even how to utilize them, but they're apparently enough that Hades intended to make me forget them permanently and when his initial efforts of physical force failed, he utilized that coin as a conduit. I'm assuming that he confided this in the crocodile at some point because he of all people wouldn't have wanted me to learn that secret either…" He paused a moment before continuing, recognizing exactly how fortunate he'd been. "I have to admit that I was fearful you wouldn't reach me in time…"

"Well, unfortunately, there isn't a way to prove that Gold magically tampered with a blood vessel in your brain, but you must have found some way to access whatever powers you have to have sent me that text message."

"Text message?" he looked completely puzzled.

"The SOS you sent to let me know you were in trouble?" She pulled out her phone and displayed the message on the screen for him to see. "This – it would have taken magic to send it considering that your phone is still in the evidence locker at the Sheriff station."

Seeing the repeated distress message on her phone didn't make him any less befuddled. "Emma, I've no idea how I would have sent that. The thought of sending you a message through that device never once crossed my mind – especially not having access to it."

"Well, someone sent it, but that's not important right now. What matters is that I got it and you're safe. What we need to do right now is to figure out how to get Mr. Smee to crack and roll on Gold…"

Killian already knew the answer to that.

"Bring him to me," was all he needed to say.

 _7:21pm_

Enlisting the aid of everyone in town she could reach at this hour, Emma put out an alert that she was searching for Mr. Smee figuring it wouldn't be too terribly difficult to track him down. And she was correct - it took less than twenty minutes for several people to report back that they'd seen Smee cowered away at the end of the bar downing a drink at the Rabbit Hole. Shortly after, David had him handcuffed and in custody, but instead of dragging their nervous suspect to the holding cell at the station, he surprised his prisoner by pulling the Sheriff cruiser up to the front entrance of the hospital.

"Um…May I ask what we're doing here?" Smee wondered as David parked the car. "And you haven't even informed me what I've been arrested for?"

"For now, public intoxication, but I guess you hadn't heard – Hook's awake and he asked to see you," David replied as he exited the car, then pulled open the rear door to let Smee out.

"The Cap'n's awake?" Smee stammered. "That's good news…" David found himself having to stifle a smirk when he saw the look of guilt and perhaps a bit of sheer terror cross Smee's face.

"It is good news. We were worried for a while that he might not pull through this, but now that he's awake, I'm sure he'll be happy to help shed some light on the other reason you were arrested…," David stated as he unlocked and removed the handcuffs from the pirate's wrists before entering the hospital. There was no use making a scene here and Smee certainly wasn't going to run – at least not far. He was too frightened right now to even budge from his spot next to the car. "Come on. I'm sure your captain doesn't like to be kept waiting…" He gave Smee's arm a tug toward the entrance doors.

Smee was silent and sweating profusely as the elevator doors opened and he immediately spotted Emma standing outside of one of the rooms, casting accusatory glances his way which were only making him increasingly anxious. He was fairly certain the captain hadn't seen him – at least not enough to be able to identify him as his attacker, but they knew. He thought he had covered his tracks well, that he'd answered their questions successfully and yet, they still knew…

The first sight of his captain – his friend – stopped him cold as he hadn't really envisioned he would have to come face to face with such a vivid image of exactly what he'd done. He hadn't even thought about what the aftermath might be when he'd stealthily picked up that ax handle from one of the many trash heaps in the alley and swung it at Hook's head. He'd simply been a man on a mission – just wanting to temporarily incapacitate his friend so he could get the watch. He'd only intended to knock him out, but in the heat of the moment, adrenaline and fear had taken control and he'd done far worse. He was now seeing the direct result of his actions, which unbeknownst to him had been magically altered to provide the full effect that Emma had been forced to witness. She'd made sure that Killian's appearance reflected all of the cuts and bruises so he'd look exactly like he had the previous night before she'd begun healing his injuries. They'd gone for the full shock value, and they got it.

"Something wrong, Mr. Smee?" Emma asked as she watched him twitch and tremble in the corridor.

"I…uh…I didn't think the Cap'n would look so…so beat up," Smee fumbled to come up with the words.

"You shouldn't be so surprised," she stated. "Isn't this what you expected when you started hitting him with that ax handle?" Smee looked up at her with the petrified, remorseful gaze of a child who'd been caught in too many lies. "We already know it was you. There was blood on Killian's hook which got there when he scratched your arm with it. Of course, he got the worst of it, didn't he?"

"Emma, I'm…" Smee didn't know what to say as she wrapped her fingers tightly around his upper arm and all but dragged him into the hospital room to face the man he'd betrayed.

"Come on in. I think you should get a closer look at your handiwork – a nice, up-close view of the injuries that you inflicted on your captain. And yes – he knows it was you…" She tugged the reluctant first mate all the way inside the room, not releasing her grip until he was mere inches from Killian's bedside. "You want a moment alone with him?" she asked, her question clearly directed to her husband who had been laying there in silence with his eyes closed – until now.

"Aye," Killian replied as he opened his eyes to stare at his petulant first mate, his gaze cold and steeped with vitriol.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," she reminded him, not that she was overly concerned for Killian's well-being. Smee had no way of knowing that she'd already healed most of the injuries, but still – seeing that he was the one who had inflicted them, she wasn't going to wander too far, falling back into the corridor with her father. Killian nodded in acknowledgement as he shifted his position and pressed a button to raise the head of the bed more so that he was more level with Smee. He wanted to be able to look his first mate in the eye when he called him out on his traitorous act.

"Mr. Smee," he began, feigning that his voice was still weakened from injury. "It's come to my attention that you and I need to have a bit of a conversation regarding the events that transpired yesterday morn – certain events that put me here…"

"I'm sorry, Captain," Smee said timidly, his eyes fixed on the grey floor tiles. He couldn't dare make eye contact with the captain right now. He honestly didn't want to look at him at all as he became overwhelmed with the guilt that haunted him.

"What was that?" Killian asked, having heard what had been said clearly, but wanting to get the full confession. "You'll have to forgive me. I've had a constant ringing inside my head since I was waylaid in that alleyway yesterday. You'll have to speak a tad louder." He certainly knew that Smee was intentionally avoiding looking at him, unable to bear the realization of what he'd done. "And generally, my crew knows to look me in the eye when I'm addressing them."

"I'm truly sorry, Captain," Smee repeated, a tiny bit louder this time and completely crestfallen. "This didn't go at all the way I'd planned…"

"What pray tell didn't go as planned? You taking a stick to beat me to a bloody pulp or your failure to obtain the pocket watch for the crocodile?" At the mention of the Dark One, Smee's eyes immediately shot up to meet the angered stare of his longtime friend. He had no way of concealing his regret for his actions, but it was far too late for a weak apology.

"I was only supposed to get the watch," the confession came in babbles. "That's all…I never intended to harm…, but…"

"But what?" Killian demanded. "What do you intend to use as your excuse for your recreant behavior? You've been my first mate for centuries and I counted you a friend as well!" Smee shrank away from him as the weight of his actions became heavier by the moment. He had betrayed his captain – his friend. He was a traitor and he deserved every bitter, stabbing word that Killian spat in his face. "What the devil was the crocodile holding over you?"

"He came to me and asked me to get the watch," Smee responded meekly. "He said he knew that I'd pilfered a few gold coins from your personal stash and threatened to turn me back into a rat if I didn't do as he'd said…"

"You nearly killed me over a threat of being turned into a rodent?" Killian exclaimed, springing forward and grasping the front of Smee's grungy greying sweatshirt, pulling the now very frightened man toward him until they were nearly nose to nose. Smee's skin broke into an instant smattering of perspiration as he faced the intensity of the Captain's anger. "Perhaps I should have Emma change you into a little sniveling rat right now…"

"I'm sorry! I don't know what else I can say to you right now to make up for what I did, Cap'n…"

"Why didn't you just come to me? Why didn't you inform me that the bloody crocodile was up to his usual nefarious deeds yet again? Did you plan to just keep beating me until I gave up the watch?"

"No…I…" Smee stuttered, unsure of what to say.

"Then what?" Killian demanded once again, his voice growing louder and more impatient. "You intended to keep striking me until you split my skull open?"

"You wouldn't stay down!" his first mate snapped. Somewhat stunned by the outburst – and the honesty - Killian released his grip on Smee's shirt and backed away. "I only meant to knock you out so I could get the watch, but you – you're so stubborn! You just wouldn't stay down! I kept swinging and swinging until you finally stopped moving…I didn't mean to…I really didn't intend to…"

The surprising admission left the captain at a rare loss for words – his ire somewhat abated by the revelation – one that Emma had heard as well as she'd stepped into the doorway to block any attempt by Smee to flee.

"No – let him go," Killian stated, shrinking back against the pillow. "Get him out of my sight." Diverting his gaze from the first mate whose betrayal stung like a fresh wound, he stared at the wall until Mr. Smee was allowed to back out of the room – not that he was going to get far. David promptly took him back into custody while Emma lingered at her husband's side, taking a seat on the edge of the bed in an attempt to help calm him as the confrontation had sent his blood pressure soaring.

"Are you okay?" she asked, already knowing the answer simply based on how tightly he'd clenched his jaw.

"Fine," he stated, but she wasn't about to believe that. "My first mate just confessed that he'd repeatedly struck me and nearly killed me because of my tenacity? I didn't lose consciousness fast enough for him?"

"Killian – you're not to blame here. He attacked you – not the other way around. He was acting out of fear and malice when he hit you. He was simply after the treasure – the watch. If he'd really cared about what happened to you he wouldn't have been so easily coerced into it in the first place. He betrayed you and nearly killed you all to do Gold's dirty work…"

"Ah, yes – back to the crocodile…"

"He's ultimately the one responsible, but there's no direct proof. Even with Smee's confession, it's still his word against Gold's and Smee isn't exactly the most reputable person in Storybrooke. Well, neither of them are, but you know Gold will just deny it."

"So the Dark One gets away with yet another crime?"

"Not a chance – but we'll have to tread carefully." She contemplated what to say next that wouldn't sound as though she were attempting to placate him, but an unexpected flinch of his hand against her thigh pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. "What's wrong?"

"This entire situation has my head aching with frustration," he sighed as he raised his hand to his forehead to massage his pounding temple.

"I know," she empathized, echoing his deep sigh as her eyes drifted up to his face, but instead of offering the encouraging smile that she'd intended, she suddenly grew concerned as she realized he had a faint nosebleed. "Are you sure you're okay? Your nose is bleeding…"

"Is it?" He touched the narrow patch of skin between his nostrils and the whiskers adorning his upper lip then drew his fingers back to see the crimson blood that now stained them. "I don't know. Probably just the strain of dealing with Mr. Smee."

"I don't think so. Look at me…" He rotated his head slightly so that his eyes met hers and she knew right away that something was wrong. His pupils were wide, despite the bright overhead lights and his glassy stare gave her chills. "Hang on. I'm getting Dr. Whale. Something isn't right."

He didn't remember blacking out. Wasn't even sure if he was awake now. Maybe all he was remembering was simply a drug-induced hallucination. Maybe Emma hadn't really healed him because the throbbing inside his skull was again as intense as it had been earlier. In fact, if he wasn't in such severe pain, he'd swear this was all still a dream.

"Welcome back, Captain," he heard Dr. Whale say as he opened his eyes.

"Back?" Killian wondered, his recollection still foggy. "What happened?" He grimaced as the beam from a small penlight was shone directly into his pupils.

"While Emma may have healed the fractures and stopped the bleeding, you were still left with a severe concussion. Stress and fatigue caused you to lose consciousness for about an hour." Whale then switched off the tiny but ridiculously bright flashlight and turned his attentions toward Emma. "Everything seems to check out and from what we saw on the CT and X-rays, I'm going to keep him here at least one more night just to be certain, but I'm not seeing any sign that this was more than just too much strain."

"Thank you," Emma replied as she stepped closer to the bed. "I'll make sure he doesn't overdo it again."

"So nice to see the two of you carrying on a conversation as though I weren't present," Killian admonished them. "Was I not to be privy of the details?"

"Sorry," she apologized as Whale stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

It wasn't until that moment that Killian realized his surroundings had changed. Aside from having a door, this room was larger and just beyond the curtain he could see that there was a second bed closer to the window. He also noticed it was much quieter as many of the machines that had been at his side or behind his head earlier were no longer present. Noting his confusion, she smiled and quickly explained: "Yes – it's a different room. You didn't need to be monitored in ICU any longer, so Whale had you moved upstairs to a regular room – one where I can spend the night here with you without having to sleep in an uncomfortable, awkward armchair."

"I did appreciate your discomfort though," he grinned. "You didn't have to spend the night at my side while I was unconscious, but I'm thankful that you did."

"Well, you've got at least one more night here. As you've already heard, I didn't completely heal the bruising that caused the concussion and there's still some swelling which was partially what caused you to black out."

"I assumed as much when the extreme headache returned," he sighed. "I supposed I shouldn't have pushed so hard to get Mr. Smee to confess his misdeeds."

"Probably not, but part of that was my fault. I shouldn't have allowed you to do so much until we knew for certain that all of your injuries were healed, but we're not going to discuss that tonight. No talk of any of this. We are going to spend tonight ignoring everything else and planning for our family. Might as well use this time to start thinking of baby names and pick out a nursery design…"

"Sounds wonderful," he smiled. He was more than ready to focus on his impending fatherhood. He still couldn't help but think that the crocodile was going to get off easy, but for now, that could wait.


	9. Chapter 9

_Wednesday, 9:22am_

With a long list of restrictions and a handful of prescriptions for various medications, Dr. Whale had reluctantly agreed to allow Emma to take her husband home. While his discharge paperwork was being completed, she took a quick trip to the station to gather his personal items from the evidence locker, then ran back home to pick up a change of clothing for him, somewhat surprised at finding her father toiling away on the front porch finishing the repairs to the front door. She gave him a quick thank you as she rushed upstairs, reminding herself that she'd need to get everything back in place before she brought Killian home as their home was still in such shambles that there wasn't even really a spot for him to sit down. David had offered to help set the furniture back upright, but she finally decided just to do it the easy way – waving her hand to magically return everything to where it had been before she'd left for Boston. She probably should have done it sooner, but she simply hadn't wanted to return back here alone – at least not until she was certain that they'd be returning together on the next trip.

Gathering everything she needed into her backpack, she'd arrived back at the hospital to discover her husband arguing with a nurse about the hospital's policy that he had to be escorted to the front entrance in a wheelchair. The sassy nurse was having none of his nonsense and Emma herself actually found the exchange quite amusing as he really was such a horrible patient. She didn't know why he was putting up such a fight over riding in the wheelchair anyway. The previous night had been the first time he finally been capable to get out of the bed and take a few short steps – mainly to the bathroom – and he'd been horribly off-balance and even a bit shaky as the lingering effects of his concussion played havoc with his equilibrium. She'd had to remind him to lean against the shower wall when he'd gotten a tad dizzy and he'd still nearly tumbled out onto her as it was. How he expected he'd be able to walk all the way to the elevator, out the front entrance and make it to the car, she didn't understand. He could be such a stubborn ass sometimes, but she had no intention of allowing any such arguments once they got home, especially since it wouldn't take much more than a simple spell to relegate him to the house.

She had parked the bug in the patient pick up area before heading upstairs, making sure that the security guard saw her so she wouldn't risk getting ticketed for leaving the car there – not that she couldn't fix it if she did get a citation. Now, after helping her pirate get dressed into the long sleeved thermal henley shirt and loose fitting fleece pants she'd pulled from his dresser, she returned his pendant and rings. She regretted not finding him some sort of slip on footwear though because his preferred black leather boots posed a challenge for him. After a few minutes, the nurse came back to the room with an orderly, going over all of Dr. Whale's discharge instructions before she would permit him to sit down in the transport chair. The orderly brought him as far as the automatic doors before Killian was allowed to stand up, finding that simple action a bit more difficult than he'd envisioned and needing Emma's assistance just to get to – and stay on – his feet. Perhaps he'd slightly overestimated his own strength. Shaking her head and grinning at Killian's new willingness to cooperate, she thanked the orderly as she folded and pocketed the pages the nurse had provided so that she'd have both hands free to aid her obstinate husband the rest of the way to the car – a task which had proven to be enough of a challenge that when they pulled up in front of their house, she made the decision that she wasn't about to struggle with any attempts to help him up their front steps and instead simply magically transported them into their living room, materializing right in front of the sofa.

"Okay, have a seat," she ordered, gently pushing him backward toward the couch.

"If my lady insists," he replied with a smirk, although he was secretly thankful she was so insistent because magical teleportation had left him somewhat disoriented. He didn't need anything else messing with his head right now.

"Damn right, your lady insists," she responded. "Like it or not, you're going to follow these instructions. I don't want to have to take you back there."

"I'm fine, Love," he assured her. "I'm glad to be home and especially back in my own clothing. Hospital attire is rather impractical and quite drafty…"

"I'm sure those gowns were designed more for convenience than anything else, but you're not changing the subject. You're not fine. You're better – but still not fine. Your concussion is only about 70% healed and Whale said you could still suffer headaches, occasional blackouts and even seizures. He wanted to keep you another day, you know…"

"And I promise, I'll behave," he replied with a cocky, lopsided grin, not that she was about to believe him, but as she'd promised herself before, she wasn't about to argue with him.

"I'm going to get your prescriptions filled. I'll be back in about an hour. My dad's right outside on the porch painting so if you need anything, he'll be here to help."

"Why the devil is your father out on our front porch painting?" Killian asked, legitimately confused.

"It's a long story. I'll let him fill you in. You know how much he likes to talk." She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek as she headed out, making sure she let her father know she was leaving so he could check in on his son in law. The likelihood that Killian would abide by any of the restrictions was certainly in doubt and while she didn't know how long it might take for him to attempt something he wasn't supposed to do, it was almost a given.

Figuring this would be as good of a time as any to take a break from painting, David strolled inside, leaving the front door standing open so the frame could dry. He nodded at his son in law as he made his way into the kitchen to wash his hands and grab a glass of water. Eager to find out why the prince was painting their door and not about to stay put on the sofa, Killian forced himself to his feet and staggered to the kitchen table, still slightly hampered by the disorienting bouts of vertigo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" David asked as he dried his hands.

"Since when is a man not allowed to enter his own galley?" Killian responded, perhaps a bit too snidely.

"When that man in just discharged from the hospital and under strict orders to take it easy for a few days, that's when," David stated, matching the pirate's snippy tone as he pulled out a chair and gestured for his stubborn son in law to sit.

"So I'm not even allowed to prepare myself a pot of tea?" Killian wondered as he reluctantly took a seat, fearing the prince would immediately rat on him to his daughter if he didn't comply. "Am I to 'take it easy' or act entirely despondent?"

"I'll get the tea. Just tell me where you keep everything."

"I assumed you already knew where most items are since you're constantly borrowing items from our stores. Just tell me, mate – did Emma ask you to be my nursemaid?"

"No – she didn't," David told him. "But she did ask me to make sure you didn't try to do anything stupid. After all, your stubbornness is legendary."

"Ah, so you've been tasked to play nanny," the pirate smirked.

"I have no desire to play nanny either," the prince laughed. "I get enough of that with a toddler at home. You'll know that feeling soon enough. Your wife just wanted me to give you a few reminders of what not to do."

"Of course she did," Killian sulked. "It would appear that I'm to be prisoner in my own home for the next few days…"

"She's just worried about you. We all were. I haven't even told Emma this but while you were in surgery, we all took turns – myself, Snow, Henry and yes, even Regina for about an hour – just sitting in either the hospital's visitor lounge or in the cafeteria waiting for updates. Even if we couldn't be in that room with you, we weren't about to leave you alone in that building until your wife could get there."

"I had no idea," Killian said almost bashfully, surprised that anyone would be that concerned for his well-being. "No one ever said anything…"

"You're a part of this family, pirate. You may be a royal pain in the ass but you're my daughter's husband and True Love and you're also the father of my soon to be second grandchild. Whether you believe this or not, we would actually like to keep you around." Killian's shy smile and reddening cheeks said it all – he was so thankful to have this family that cared for him even if it didn't seem real at times, but before things could get too uncomfortably emotional, they both agreed it was time to change the subject. "I suppose I should go see if the paint on the door frame is dried so we don't leave it wide open like that for long. Don't want to end up with a house full of flies. I'll give you a hand with that tea in a minute."

"Emma said I should ask you about that," Killian began as he pointed toward the door. "Why exactly are you outside on the porch painting our front door? She said it was a long story…"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. We think Mr. Smee broke in here after assaulting you in the alley when he wasn't able to find the watch. Tossed the whole house looking for it. Nothing was taken, but there were a few things broken – including the front door. Smee pried it open with a crowbar or something similar. Personally, I would have just broken the glass, but who knows what he was thinking. Anyway, I've spent the better part of the past two days helping out with the repairs and just finished re-painting this morning."

"Emma could have just used her magic to fix it," Killian said, not really sure why she wouldn't have done that.

"I know. I volunteered to do it. A few people from town pitched in too. We figured she had enough to worry about."

"Thank you," Killian stated in a soft, but very sincere tone. "For everything."

"It was the least I could do. Now, if my daughter is anything like her mother, I suggest you make your way back over to that couch before she gets back. You don't ever want to argue with a pregnant woman."

"I'll take that under serious advisement, mate," the pirate laughed as he pushed himself back to his feet using the table for support, although he didn't move very quickly until the dizziness subsided.

"Need a hand?" David asked, recognizing that his son in law wasn't exactly steady on his feet yet.

"Not necessary," Killian insisted. "I can manage, but I do have another question for you before you return to painting. When do you suppose I can have my hook back? Don't really feel like myself without it. Emma retrieved all of my other belongings, but it would appear that she either forgot my hook or isn't permitting me to have it yet."

"I guess it's technically still evidence, but since Smee confessed, I suppose we don't need it any longer. I honestly hadn't even realized that you were missing it. I'll talk to Emma and if necessary, I'll head over to the station this afternoon to pick it up." David started toward the front door to finish up his project, but turned back toward Killian and added: "Your mother in law will probably insist that I bring you lunch back too."

"I certainly wouldn't argue with her Highness," Killian chuckled as he flopped back down onto the sofa while massaging his aching temple. He would have preferred to head upstairs to bed, but he didn't dare navigate the steps on his own and he would never be able to live it down if he asked David for help. The last thing he needed to do was to get disoriented and trip on the staircase, so he'd have to wait until Emma returned and with any luck, that wouldn't be long.

 _10:13am_

With a few minutes left before the pharmacy would have her husband's medications ready to pick up, Emma decided to take a stroll around the corner to the jewelry store, wanting to thank Mr. Blackstone in person for uncovering the coin as well as to see if he could shed any light on the pocket watch's history. His shop was tucked away on a quiet corner not far from the Sheriff Station or from Granny's, but away from the busiest part of town. Being the town's only jeweler, he did a decent amount of business, but the shop always seemed to be unencumbered and private – which made it perfect for the questions Emma had in mind today.

A little chime sounded when she pushed open the front door and glanced around at all of the display cases filled with shiny gems and baubles. She didn't really wear a lot of jewelry herself, at least not anymore. Her wedding rings and a pair of simple earrings were about all she wore now, but the gleam of all of the sparkly treasures laid out before her still caught her eye. Maybe being married to a pirate was rubbing off on her just a smidge. Still early in the day, the shop was empty except for Cyrus Blackstone himself who emerged from his office with a huge smile on his face.

"Emma, how nice to see you! How is your husband doing?"

"He's much better. He's home from the hospital and will need a few days to recuperate, but he's definitely far better than Monday."

"That's wonderful news," the jeweler said as he stepped around a display case to meet her in the middle of the shop. "What can I do for the Sheriff today?"

"Well, first I wanted to thank you for finding that hidden coin. It proved to be an extremely valuable piece of evidence, but second, I wanted to see if you could tell me anything about the history of that watch. You told me that it had been in your case for a while. Do you happen to remember exactly when you acquired it and where it was from?"

He leaned against one of his own display cases and let out a long sigh which was not the body language or reaction that she'd expected from her inquiry.

"I'm afraid that may have been a bit of a sales pitch," he admitted, but the statement only added to her confusion.

"What do you mean?" she wondered.

"Emma, I honestly don't know where that watch came from. When you came in that day and saw it in my case, I had no idea how it got there. I'd never seen it before, but you seemed so interested in it, I sold it to you anyway."

"So you're saying that the watch I picked out for Killian just somehow appeared in your shop the day I bought it?" Emma asked, newly perplexed by the ever developing mystery of this little item.

"Maybe a day or so prior. I can't be entirely certain, but I know it wasn't there at the beginning of the week when I did my inventory and cleaned the cases. I do it every Monday."

"Thank you for being honest with me. It adds a whole new layer of intrigue to this case, but it still helps."

"I wish I could be of more assistance to you, but I'm afraid that the background of that piece is just as much of a mystery to me as it is to you."

She shook his hand and after saying their farewells, she started her walk back to the pharmacy on Main Street, her mind fully occupied with attempting to determine how the watch she'd bought three months ago had magically made its way into the local jewelry store. She thought back to that morning, recalling that she'd been trying to think of something unique to get Killian for his birthday but a 300 year old pirate was definitely difficult to buy for. She'd initially thought about getting him a new ring to replace one of his old pirate rings, but she'd been instantaneously drawn to that silver plated watch with its anchor design. Being a pocket watch on a chain, it would be far easier for him to carry and wouldn't have to fit around his hook's leather brace. It also was simply a stunning piece of jewelry as well and she had just known that her pirate husband would love it. Now though, she was beginning to think that it was no coincidence that this unique watch ended up in Killian's hand and she suddenly remembered his remark about Hades saying that the coin he'd flung at him was tied to his fate.

Fate had intervened to bring that object to him, but why? To unlock his memory of the magical abilities he may still possess? It just seemed as though there had to be more to this than magic. A watch that magically appeared and drew Emma straight toward it… A magical coin that was hidden away inside that somehow restored Killian's stolen memories from the Underworld. Gold attempting to steal the watch and the coin to prevent them from learning the secrets it contained…

And that was where she stopped herself. How had Gold known about that pocket watch? Even if he'd seen Killian carrying it, how did he automatically know that it was enchanted? Did he have some sort of homing device for magical objects appearing in Storybrooke and if so, why didn't he just take it? Why force Mr. Smee to steal it?

Seems as though she was going to have to pay the Dark One a visit and that was never a pleasant experience…

 _11:38am_

Returning home with a small paper bag full of prescription bottles, she made certain her bull-headed husband was aware of what each medication was for - going over each one with the same explanation she'd received from the pharmacist. There was an anti-inflammatory to help keep the swelling under control from the concussion, two different pain relievers of varying strength that he could alternate as needed since one was a narcotic and one wasn't and a medication to help with the vertigo he'd been experiencing. Dr. Whale had also insisted on an anti-convulsive medication but Emma was less concerned with making Killian take that one since she knew that his "seizure" had actually been Rumplestiltskin's dark magic. Of course, even though she was describing each medicine to him, she knew she'd likely end up having to keep track of them because anything more than the occasional aspirin was too complicated for Killian who still felt that rum was the answer to any malady. (And she'd also confiscated his flask to keep him out of that too.)

After getting him to swallow the four pills he was instructed to take right away – no easy task in itself – she aided her awful patient up the stairs to their bedroom and got him into bed. Despite his protests, he rolled onto his side and actually fell asleep fairly quickly as the codeine enhanced pain reliever kicked in. She made sure he was sound asleep – as evidenced by his light snoring – before heading back downstairs. She said a quick goodbye to her father who was cleaning up his drop cloths and removing the masking tape from the glass around the newly painted front door and door frame, informing him that she had another errand to run, but would be back in a few minutes. Without a thought of asking where she might be headed, David volunteered to stay at the house until she got back, then he'd take over Sheriff duties so she could relax the rest of the afternoon. She promptly took him up on that offer, but now it was time to go get some answers from Gold.

Emma was tentative and even a bit cautious as she pushed open the door to Gold's pawn shop, sounding the trio of little bells attached to the interior handle. Entering this shop was always a bit nerve-wracking as there was never a way to know what sort of mood the shop's proprietor would be in – especially since Emma certainly was not a person Gold particularly enjoyed seeing.

"Ms. Swan," he greeted her with his back to her while placing an ornate crystal goblet into a display case just beyond his archaic cash register. "My apologies…I keep forgetting that it's Mrs. Jones now. What exactly can I do for you today?"

"I need some answers – and they'd better be honest ones," she stated as the shop door swung closed behind her, suddenly making her feel a tiny bit claustrophobic.

"Answers?" he sneered. "Well, I suppose those would depend on the questions, dearie. I'll decide once I hear them."

"Pretty cocky for someone who failed – yet again – to put an end to his rival, but luckily for you, that isn't why I'm here right now. I want to know how you knew about the pocket watch?"

"Pocket watch?" he feigned ignorance.

"You know damned well what I'm talking about," she stated, trying very hard to temper her anger. "You knew that the pocket watch I gave Killian was a magical object – how?"

"Let's just say that I'm well aware of all enchanted objects that turn up here in Storybrooke. And it wasn't the watch so much that was magical. It really was a rather ordinary trinket. It was something inside that caught my attentions."

"Of course it was. Exactly when did you figure it out?"

Gold closed the door to the case he'd been tending and finally turned around to face her, clearly taking his time to formulate a response to her inquiries. "Not that long ago," he replied. "I happened to see Hook showing the watch to someone a few weeks back and I sensed an aura of magic around it. After a bit of thought and a little research, I determined that it was likely a parting gift from Hades…" The sarcasm and obvious contempt were thick in his statement.

"So Hades told you that he'd taken away some of Killian's memories – specifically memories about light magic? I can't imagine that the Lord of the Underworld wouldn't enjoy boasting to the Dark One that he'd erased a memory that was potentially destructive to both of you…"

"Oh that – yes. In that, I'm guilty as charged…" Gold stated with a condescending snicker. "Hades was all too eager to inform me that he'd enchanted that old coin to suppress your pirate's memories. But that wasn't all he had to say…"

"Go on…" Emma really didn't like the look on Gold's face, but she was still curious to learn what he had to say.

"Hades was in a rather jovial mood, believing he'd snared all of us in his traps – me with the contract and you with the tombstones - so he was rather pleased with himself as he announced to me all about what he'd done to Hook's memory. He displayed that coin like a trophy and as a grand gesture, he put a special clause on it so that it would only return under one single condition. Of course, at the time, he never thought that he would end up a pile of dust in Regina's office or that his brother would return Hook to the land of the living. Clearly that condition was met because the coin reappeared – ironically inside a timepiece…"

"And just what was his 'condition'?" she wondered.

"He called it a 'paternity clause' so am I to gather that congratulations are in order?"

"Paternity clause? He tied Killian's memories to us conceiving a child?"

"That was what I was told, dearie. He thoroughly enjoyed the irony since I'd just learned Belle was expecting and at the time, the contract he was holding would have given my son to him. He even went so far as to specify that the pirate would have to sire a daughter, but since a dead man couldn't procreate, he believed it was an ironclad guarantee. So you can imagine that as soon as I'd ascertained what the object was, I attempted to acquire it before your husband discovered it."

"Attempted to acquire it? That's what you call blackmailing Mr. Smee into stealing it for you?"

"I don't recall blackmailing anyone. Mr. Smee was a willing participant."

"Only after you threatened to turn the little rat back into a little rat," Emma reminded him.

"Unless you have proof of that, Sheriff, I stand by my statement," Gold said brazenly.

"Of course you do," she responded, but unfortunately she couldn't argue. There was no physical evidence that implicated him, just Smee's accusation and Killian's encounter at the hospital, which would be too easily dismissed as a seizure-induced delusion. Gold had been careful to ensure that no one saw him anywhere near Killian's room that night – no one that would remember it at least. "So – what do you intend to do now? Killian may not yet know how to utilize that magic, but you and I both know that he'll figure it out. I may not be able to arrest you and put you behind bars where you belong, but I'm sure I can find ways to make things miserable for you if you come near my family again…"

"Was that a threat, Sheriff?" he taunted.

"Call it what you want. This is between you and me right now and it can stay that way."

"I'll take that under advisement," he replied, turning his back toward her once again, but Emma wasn't quite ready to be dismissed yet.

"My advice to you is to stay far away from my family," she warned. "You know all too well that both Killian and I can hear the call of your dagger. We can find it wherever you might hide it and while I really have no intention of ever seeing that thing again, we both know how bad it could be for you, Dark One…"

"Then we stand in détente, Ms. Swan," he responded without looking back at her. "Now, if you'd so kindly leave my shop. I'm closing for lunch."

Emma started to say something, but decided against it. She'd save that battle for another day. Right now, she just wanted to get out of this den of evil and return home before her husband woke so she wouldn't have to explain her absence, but little did she know that her visit had stirred up a bitter memory for Rumplestiltskin as well. As soon as he heard the bells sound and was certain she was out of the shop,, he lowered his head as he thought back to that conversation with Hades – the conversation that revealed the true extent of how destructive Hook's returning memories could be.

 _"Isn't this such an interesting predicament?" Hades cackled, knowingly making Rumplestiltskin even angrier. "Just the kind of secret you wouldn't want your enemies to stumble upon…"_

" _I'm hardly concerned with my enemies getting their hands on my dagger, thank you very much. I've had centuries of practice to keep it well concealed."_

" _And how do you intend to keep it a secret from those who can hear its call? This is certainly not exactly something you'd want the so-called savior, Emma Swan, to learn…"_

 _"And just how would she learn that she could kill me without becoming a Dark One again? She has no idea that this particular loophole exists."_

" _But the pirate found out," Hades stated with a wicked grin. "I might have accidentally let that little secret of yours slip when I was reminding him of all the things he lost in death. He gave up a sure way to put an end to you – and now that he knows that you cheated and negated his grand sacrifice, you think that desire for revenge might be reignited? He might be dead but his dear princess, Emma, isn't. I'm sure this something he'd be all too happy to share." Hades laughed as he watched the Dark One squirm. He was definitely relishing all of this. It wasn't often he got to taunt the living and an immortal at that. "Don't worry yourself, Dark One," he said as he playfully tossed a copper hued coin in the air, catching it on his open palm as it fell. "Your secret is safe – for now. Other items in Captain Jones' memory presented too much of a threat to me and as it would seem - to you as well, so I took the liberty of binding those nasty little memories." He flipped the coin yet again then with a flick of his fingers, it vanished in a puff of smoke. "That little piece of metal has those potentially damaging memories locked away and in honor of our recent discovery that you've got a little bundle of joy on the way soon, I decided to add a little paternity clause to this - just for fun…"_

" _A paternity clause? Just in case a True Love kiss from the Savior doesn't give Hook his memories back?"_

" _Oh, I made certain of that. The only thing that will make that coin reappear is if the Captain suddenly fathers a little princess of his own. And as we know, a dead man can't exactly procreate so there's little for either of us to be concerned about."_

" _And what if Emma succeeds in her plan to bring him back?"_

" _Succeeds? Unless one of these heroes plans to trade their life for the pirate, she won't prevail in this little endeavor. Her plan to split her heart isn't going to work. She just hasn't had that revelation yet. There isn't going to be a way for Jones to sire a child with his fair princess so your potentially fatal secret will remain unknown for now, but of course that's only if no one figures it out on their own…"_

Emma had mentioned the dagger and the potential for malady that could come from either former Dark One locating it, but she hadn't mentioned her immunity to it. Either the Savior was keeping that card to play later, or she wasn't yet aware. Problem was, it was only a matter of time before all of Hook's remaining memories were restored and another confrontation would appear all but inevitable.


	10. Chapter 10

_3:55pm_

Making sure that she followed Dr. Whale's instructions, Emma was required to wake Killian after about three hours - a process she was to repeat any time he fell asleep for the first 48 hours he was at home. If for any reason she couldn't get him to wake up, she was to call for an ambulance immediately – or in her case, magically teleport him straight to the emergency room. Thankfully, that hadn't been necessary as he'd awakened fairly easily and had no difficulty answering the two coherency questions that she was ordered to ask him to ensure that his memory and logic weren't impaired. It seemed a bit ridiculous to ask him such mundane questions as what the name of his ship was or where they'd first met, but Whale had insisted it was important and should be things he wouldn't need to hesitate to respond to. And of course he didn't.

She was also glad that she'd stopped at Granny's on the way home from Gold's shop to pick up some lunch. Since she'd spent the better part of the past two days at the hospital, she hadn't done the grocery shopping that she had planned to do when she got back from Boston and honestly, just wasn't feeling up to cooking. With cravings kicking into overdrive, she'd ordered a cheeseburger for herself with both onion rings and french fries. Baby was definitely in the mood for greasy comfort foods, but she wasn't sure something that heavy would be good for Killian since his appetite wasn't completely back. She'd hoped to get him some soup to replace the batch she hadn't shared with him, but today's soup of the day was actually chili which didn't seem like the best choice. The typically gruff old woman must have had a little bit of a soft spot for the pirate or just felt sorry for his somewhat haggard looking wife because she offered to throw together a quick batch of chicken noodle – an invalid's best friend, she'd called it – just for him.

She brought the food in on a tray and was pleased that he'd sat up and ate about of third of it along with one french fry that he'd swiped from her Styrofoam to-go container while they sat atop their bed, but it was clear that he was still groggy from the medication and probably just flat out tired from the lingering head injury so she cleared the remnants of their lunch from the bed and just let him rest. It wasn't something that she was really surprised by since she'd been warned by both Dr. Whale and the nurse that he'd likely sleep 12-18 hours each day for a while – one of the reasons she needed to wake him regularly to make sure he wasn't at risk of drifting back into an unresponsive state. With everything she'd learned about head injuries and concussions over the past few days, she'd started to harbor a tiny bit of guilt for every skip or villain that she'd taken down with a blow to the head. Not a whole lot of guilt, but enough to leave a lingering thought in the back of her mind.

She stayed at his side for a few minutes, debating whether she wanted to snuggle up next to him and take a nap herself, but she feared she might disturb him and despite her severe sleep deprivation over the past few days, she really wasn't tired. Instead, she picked up the tray and returned downstairs, placing it on the kitchen counter before curling up on the sofa with her laptop, intending to finish up some paperwork she'd started days ago. She eventually changed her mind and decided to watch a silly romantic comedy movie that would have bored Killian concluding that work could just wait until later. A little more than halfway through the movie though, she heard the creak of footsteps on the staircase and knowing that Henry had gone to the library to do some research for a report due on Friday, the only person who could be coming down those stairs was her husband, already disobeying the doctor's instructions.

"What are you doing?" she demanded without taking her eyes off of her computer screen.

"Do you fully intend to treat me as a prisoner in my own home? I'm certainly capable of descending these stairs myself…"

"You're supposed to be taking it easy," she reminded him. "And what if you get dizzy and trip?"

"So that means I can't do anything for myself?" he asked as he reached the bottom step, pausing for a moment to make sure he had his balance before crossing the living room to join her on the sofa. "See – I'm not completely helpless."

"You're impossible."

"I seem to recall saying something along those lines to an incredibly stubborn and lovely woman a long time ago…," he grinned as she closed the cover on the laptop.

"I suppose we both fit that category, don't we?" she chuckled as she set the computer aside so she could wrap an arm around his shoulder. "You actually fared pretty well getting down those stairs. No more dizziness?"

"Still a bit, but not as severe," he told her. "Just the lingering headache – but before you say anything – no, I don't need any more of the pain medicine right now. I want to be able to stay awake and enjoy some quiet time with my wife and perhaps, if my lady will allow, enjoy a make-up dinner for the one we were forced to postpone?"

"You actually think you're up to going out for dinner?" she asked skeptically.

"As I stated – perhaps - although if you're still so concerned for my welfare, we could always order our meal to dine here at home. After all, we do have a very special occasion to celebrate…"

"I think we actually have two special occasions to celebrate," she smiled. "What did you have in mind? And remember – you are still under strict doctor's orders…"

"And you certainly won't allow me to forget that…," he grumbled, "but I'm not quite certain what to expect for our evening meal. I suppose it will be whatever your mother has planned." He laughed as her head snapped around to look him in the eye.

"What?"

"Careful, Love. You'll give yourself whiplash," he snickered while attempting to explain. "Your mother called while you were away earlier running errands and she very pragmatically informed me that she's bringing us dinner this evening so you don't have to fret over anything tonight. Henry is eating with them and your father will drive him home later."

"And exactly when were you going to tell me all of this?"

"Telling you now," he smirked. "I assumed that her Highness had contacted you as well. Clearly that was not the case…"

Emma shook her head as she snuggled into his shoulder. "No, my mother didn't call me, but I'm not going to complain. I'll happily take a quiet night at home where I don't have to cook. I think we've earned it. I'd love to tell her that I'm really craving spicy Mexican food, but that's probably not a good idea…"

"Is there something wrong with spicy Mexican food?" Killian wondered, obviously bewildered as to why it would be a poor choice if it were something she wanted.

"Let's just say it's an awkward subject – made even more awkward by me being pregnant," she replied. "But I'd really rather not go into further detail."

"Then I shall forgo any further query regarding said subject, but I do have one on an entirely different subject…" She noticed that the tone of his voice became more serious as he prepared to change the subject.

"Okay…, what might that be?"

"You paid a visit to the crocodile today, didn't you?" His voice lowered to a near whisper.

"How did you know I went to see Gold?" She was slightly stunned that he'd known.

"Because I know you, Swan. He tried to kill me. I knew you wouldn't just let that go – even if there's no way to prove any of the allegations."

"I went to get some answers. When I was waiting for your prescriptions to be filled, I went and talked to Mr. Blackstone this morning. He admitted to me that he'd never seen the watch before the day I bought it. It had just appeared in his case so we know the coin was already inside. Somehow Gold knew about it so I went over there to ask him how he'd found out. He told me he'd sensed its presence when he saw you with the watch one day."

"He proudly confessed to me that he previously knew of the coin courtesy of Hades. Perhaps the day he spoke of was when he learned the coin was contained inside the watch?"

"It's possible. He obviously knew what the coin had been used for which would explain why he sent Smee after it. He must have been a little antsy that if he touched the coin himself that it might remove his memories regarding the Excalibur-Grail magic too. I mean it could have since Hades had enchanted the coin to remove those memories of yours and then he did tell Gold all about it. If the enchantment was to remove memories of that one specific subject, it might have had the same effect on him. But I'm sure if Smee had stolen it, he would have locked it away in a vault somewhere or simply poofed it away to some remote location."

"That was likely his plan, but fortunately, we uncovered it first and regardless of whether I do possess any residual magic from Excalibur or its predecessor, I do know that it was something Hades feared and likely so did the crocodile."

"Well, you definitely found some magical way to send me that text message yesterday. I don't know how the hell you did it, but I'm sure glad you found a way. Oh, and by the way, I'm so sorry that I forgot your hook when I picked up your things this morning. I completely forgot that it was in David's desk drawer. You'll have it back tonight and I have to say, I've sorta missed it," she grinned.

"You have?" he laughed, partially due to her rambling, but mostly because he'd always known she was attracted to his shiny steel artificial appendage.

"Yes – believe it or not, I have," she replied, but no sooner had the words passed her lips, her emotions shifted as if she'd flipped a switch – her smiling eyes suddenly filling with tears. Realizing her hormone-driven feelings were getting the best of her, she abruptly turned her face away from him, trying to wipe away the tears before he noticed, but she wasn't fast enough.

"Emma…Love, what's wrong?" he wondered, placing his hand against the back of her head urging her to turn around.

"It's okay…just these damned hormones," she said with a sniffle, but he wasn't buying it.

"Swan…"

"Oh, come on. Don't make me do this…," she protested, but just catching a glimpse of his baby blues broke down the wall she was trying so hard to build. "It's just that I leave town for one day and nearly lose you again because of magic!"

"And yet your magic saved my life – more than once. I'm here, Love," he assured her.

"But what if I hadn't gotten there in time? You could have died on that operating table before I even knew anything was wrong. And what if Gold's plan yesterday had succeeded?"

"I didn't and it didn't. You can't dwell on this, Emma. I'm fine and that's all that matters now. We obviously have a child to plan for, so why don't we continue that discussion from last night instead?"

"Changing the subject, are we?" she chided him as she wiped away the tracks of the tears on her cheeks with her sleeve before she at last turned back to face him, her eyes still puffy and red. "So I guess we need to decide if we want to paint the nursery classic white or should we go with a more princessy pink?"

"Princessy?" his attention was piqued by her emphasis on that word. "Now you're the one who's suddenly certain we're having a daughter?"

"Let's just say that something Gold told me today has me feeling pretty confident that it's a girl."

"You're taking the crocodile's word on this?"

"Technically, no. He was simply relaying Hades' message."

"Are you saying that the Lord of the Underworld and the Dark One were at one time engaged in conversation regarding our future daughter?"

"As disturbing as that may sound, it appears they did, only from what I gather, it was really more of a sick joke at the time. There wasn't supposed to be a future…" She couldn't hold back the water works this time as she said those words and the realization struck her of how much they'd really overcome. This time though, it was Killian who wiped away her tears with his thumb as he gently stroked her face.

"Whatever Hades did or didn't say to the crocodile isn't important. If we're having a daughter then I for one hope that our wee princess takes after her mother – and perhaps picks up a bit of cunning wit from her royal bandit grandmother as well…"

"Please don't let my mother hear that!" Emma laughed, finally able to rein in the tears as he pulled her into a tight embrace, but as he did, it was now his expression that changed. While she was unable to see his face, his visage hardened, no longer reflecting the jovial encouragement but instead hovering somewhere between confusion and brooding. It wasn't that he was any less joyous about their child, but rather that he felt that dull ache slowly building in the back of his skull as he'd been struck with another memory of something Hades had said – and now, in an instant – it all made sense. Emma might not have been able to see the look on his face, but she certainly felt the tension in his arms as his hold on her shoulders suddenly felt different. "Okay, now it's my turn to ask – are you alright?" She pushed back from him to see his troubled expression.

"Aye," he replied, bringing his hand to the back of his head as demonstration that his tension was merely a returning headache. "Just a bit of discomfort from my present malaise, but you needn't worry. It will pass."

"Unh uh," she protested. "I'll get you one of the ibuprofen tablets that Dr. Whale prescribed. There's no codeine in it, so it won't make you drowsy, but you don't need to suffer with the aches and pains."

"I'd rather a swig of rum," he grumbled only to get an icy glare in response, "but if my lovely wife insists, I'll take the medicine." Perhaps later he'd tell her the real reason for his shifting mood, but not before he'd had a chance to have a little tete-a-tete with someone else first.

 _One week later – 10:01am_

He'd gotten there early – just as the shop was opening for the day, but despite the door being unlocked and the sign hanging from it turned to read "OPEN", the interior lights hadn't yet been turned on and that was just fine with Killian. He pushed open the door, sounding the bells attached to it and a he entered, used a swift flick of his hook to flip over the sign to read "CLOSED" to allow a few uninterrupted moments to have a word with the shop's owner.

"Safe to assume that you're not here to purchase anything," he heard Gold's voice say before the Dark One stepped out of the back room.

"I guess you could say I'm here to make a deal, crocodile, but this one will be on my terms, not yours."

"And what makes you think I'd ever agree to such a deal?" Gold asked, not about to lower himself to the pirate's standards. "I seem to recall the last time you attempted to set the terms of a deal, it rather spectacularly backfired on you…"

"Suffice it for me to say that it's due to the fact that I know precisely why you tried to steal that coin and then tried to kill me when Smee failed to obtain it for you…." Killian stared directly at Gold with no fear in his gaze this time, knowing for the first time in a long time that he truly had the advantage.

"I'm listening…" the Dark One hissed, not really interested in being bothered by Hook, but still curious to learn if the pirate had indeed remembered the final missing piece of his memory puzzle – the last remaining part of the conversation Hades had stolen from him.

"It's taken a while for all of the missing memories to fall into place," Killian stated, "but my recollection is fully restored and I know for certain now that you never feared if I still possessed any of the magic from Excalibur. That never concerned you for a moment. What's been vexing you is that Hades mistakenly revealed to me an important fact about the Dark Curse – under what would be considered 'normal' circumstances, you can't be re-afflicted. My death released Emma from the grip of the curse and your little subterfuge with the potion released me from it. No living being was ever intended to be a vessel for the Darkness more than once in a lifetime – especially since the death of the previous Dark One is traditionally what passes on the curse. But you – you had to be unique. You had the Darkness taken away from you by the Apprentice before all of your evil deeds completely blackened your heart. You could have been done with it, but you couldn't live without the power. You stole the curse back with a potion, thinking no one would ever be the wiser, but Emma could still hear the call of the dagger and yes, so can I. What Hades erroneously said while so gleefully torturing me was that Emma and I were left immune to the Dark Curse. If either of us were to stab you with your shiny new dagger, all of your dark magic and power just dies with you. That's the part you were so eager to ensure I didn't remember. After all of these centuries of seeking revenge, I finally have a way to end you once and for all…" Killian paused as he searched his enemy's face for any cracks in his tightly veiled exterior. He had the upper hand, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that he wasn't still in danger. "But I've no intention to do that…," the pirate continued. "I realize that you could still kill me right now, but you've no way of knowing if I've already relayed this little secret to Emma. Are you willing to take that chance – that she couldn't get to the dagger first? So, what say you, Dark One? Shall we call a truce?"

Gold contemplated his options in silence. The pirate was correct on both fronts – he and Emma were now immune to the Darkness and yes, he could kill him right here and hope that Hook hadn't already relayed the message to his wife. Or he could agree to the truce. There was no way to entirely conceal the dagger from either of them as all living former Dark Ones could hear its call. Hook's words rang true – either of them could kill him with his own dagger and neither would be afflicted. It would simply mean the end of the Dark One – the feat that Hook had attempted with his own sacrifice. That was the secret that he had hoped to keep hidden forever, but it was too late now…

"That's an interesting proposal," Gold stated, still mulling his choice.

"Do we have a deal? We leave you to live your life and you stay clear of our family?"

"Your wife asked me that same question last week," Gold said before at last conceding. "I believe the answer to both of your questions is yes – we have a deal."

"Good," Killian grinned as he prepared to unleash his last surprise for the crocodile. With scarcely a flick of his wrist, the sign on the front door flipped itself over to read "OPEN" once more.

"So, that part was true?" the Dark One asked, although he'd already known the answer. "I see you've figured out how to use those powers…"

"Aye. I've had some time to practice while convalescing at home for the past few days, but I've really no interest in using it. Just a few little parlor tricks as you once called them, but I'm certain Hades made you aware of the potential?"

"Indeed he did," was Gold's dead-pan response. He knew all too well.

Killian returned a satisfied smile as he exited the pawn shop, confident that the Dark One would uphold his end of the bargain. He'd executed the gamble successfully as he hadn't yet revealed the secret of the Dark Curse to Emma. He'd wanted to secure their safety first and he certainly hadn't let on that he'd been practicing magic, not that she would have noticed as she'd been so preoccupied with his recovery and her pregnancy. Now that the deal was in place, he would reveal it all to her, but first he had to quickly get himself to the location he was actually supposed to be in right now – his follow up appointment with Dr. Whale. He'd promised Emma he was capable of walking there on his own accord as she'd left on a call that morning. He didn't dare be even a minute late…

One of Whale's stipulations before he would discharge him from the hospital a week ago was that Killian had to schedule a follow-up immediately so that the doctor could ensure that his patient was still healing properly. The bouts of vertigo had finally abated but while he hadn't openly complained, he was still suffering lingering headaches and fighting through a rather nagging weakness on his right side. He wasn't about to let on that he was struggling with anything though or Emma would never have allowed him out of the house. She'd already spent more than enough time worrying about him and at a time when he should be doting on his pregnant wife, he was instead finding that recovering from this latest concussion was a grander challenge than he'd expected.

He'd arrived to the clinic on time, expecting Emma to already be there, but she appeared to be running a little late and Whale, being the busy doctor that he was, wasn't about to wait on the Sheriff. Inviting his patient into the exam room, Whale picked up the folder containing Killian's medical records and gestured for the pirate to take a seat on the exam table against the far wall.

"Not subjecting me to one of those awful scanning machines today?" Killian wondered.

"I thought we might have a conversation first and then I'll decide if I need to send you for further tests. How are your symptoms?"

"Perfectly manageable."

"No more vertigo? Headaches?"

"The dizziness has subsided, but unfortunately, the headaches persist. Milder than before, but ongoing."

"Same areas as before?"

"Mainly at the temple, but other spots when I'm fatigued."

"Anything that the medication doesn't ease?"

"Honestly, I prefer not to take the pills. I don't like the affect they have on me."

"So you prefer to suffer?" Whale said snidely. "Forever the tough as nails pirate…"

"My choice," Killian reminded him.

"Experiencing any other lingering side effects? Irritability?" Killian rolled his eyes as the doctor emphasized that adjective purely out of spite. "Any weakness?" Whale watched his patient's eyebrow raise ever so slightly at the word _weakness._ "I gather from your reaction that the answer to that question is a yes?"

"I've found it difficult at times to grasp objects and I've occasionally found myself unable to stand for long periods of time and maintain my balance. I've even had my knee give out beneath me once for no obvious reason. Is there something that explains those unusual symptoms?"

"Not surprising," Whale stated. "I suspected that you may have suffered a stroke before Emma healed you after the seizure. This could be some of the residual effects from a stroke."

"A stroke?"

"In simplest terms - a blood clot that traveled to your brain and got stuck, severely damaging a portion of the tissue. You were likely in the very early stages while you were comatose - right before Emma healed the majority of your head injuries. Perhaps there was some damage from a stroke that she wasn't able to heal that was simply masked by the concussion?"

"I gather this is something you could ascertain from one of those machines?"

"Possibly – depending on how much visible evidence remains. For the moment though, we'll give it a week. If those symptoms are still bothering you, we'll arrange for some additional tests."

"Further tests for what?" came a voice as the door swung open slowly and Emma poked her head in. "Sorry I'm running a little late, but the nurse said you were in here."

"I apologize that we started without you," Whale said, "but I've a busy schedule to keep up."

"Understood. You were saying something about tests?" she asked as she closed the door behind her and sat down in an empty chair at the foot of the exam table.

"I was saying that I'm going to wait another week to see if the ongoing symptoms subside," the doctor explained, "but let's get a quick check up of all of the Captain's vitals out of the way and then Emma, I haven't forgotten what we talked about…"

The brief exam took mere minutes and nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, at least not based on the doctor's expressions as he took readings and transcribed them into the records.

"Well, Captain, everything looks perfectly fine for now," Whale stated. "Your blood pressure is normal; heart and lungs sound fine and your reflexes are almost back to normal. I'm fairly confident that the lingering weakness should clear up on its own, but if not, we'll address that next week."

"I'd much prefer this to all just go away," Killian replied as he hopped down from the exam table. "Our lives have certainly been disrupted enough."

"I agree," Emma said with a sideways grin. "Keeping him out of trouble is a full time job!"

"Pardon me if we pirates do not fare well being confined to a dwelling," Killian retorted as he reached for his jacket, hung on the back of the chair she was occupying.

"Not just yet," she smiled as she stood up and made a motion for him to take a seat in the chair she'd just vacated.

"Am I missing something here, Love?" he wondered as Dr. Whale stepped out of the room for a moment, returning seconds later with a strange looking electronic contraption in his hand.

"I'm trying to make up for something you missed out on while you were recovering from the attack – something you should have been there to witness," she stated as she climbed up onto the exam table herself, stretching out on her back and tugging her blouse out of the waistband of her jeans to expose her midsection.

"What are you doing?" Killian demanded, both startled and alarmed by his wife's actions.

"It's okay, Killian," she laughed. "I asked Dr. Whale to do this for you…"

"To do what?" the pirate wondered, not entirely comfortable as Whale approached her and pressed some sort of metal probe against the bare skin of her abdomen.

"One moment…" Whale said, adjusting a dial on the device as he moved the probe around slowly. The sound of static and the crackle of white noise filled the room as he attempted to find just the right spot. And then suddenly a sharp staccato drowned out the other cacophony. It was rapid with a slight echo and was the most alien sound Killian had encountered in ages. "And there we are…" the doctor said, reserving emotion for the parents to be. "Fast and strong."

"What is that?" Killian pointed to the device pressed to her stomach but he also meant the click-like sound he was hearing.

"It's a microphone – it's used to magnify sounds that would otherwise be difficult to hear," she explained, but it didn't appear to lessen his confusion.

"And what the devil are we supposed to be hearing with this microphone?" the pirate couldn't help but ask.

"A heartbeat. A tiny little heartbeat," she replied, her eyes going bleary as she saw the instant realization wash over him. She extended her hand to him and laced her fingers with his as they'd done so many times only this time, it was part of a memory she'd treasure forever. She was already looking forward to all of the little moments that would come as they moved forward on this journey together. They might live in a town where the next crisis was always lurking, but she was determined to make every second of this special. After everything they'd faced together, nothing mattered more than their family right now. Their lives weren't going to get any less insane and after all - what was crazier than the fact that the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming was married to and was now having a baby with Captain Hook? But no matter what, all she needed for her own comfort was the awe and complete mesmerization that she'd just seen reflected in his eyes. There was little doubt that he was already entirely devoted to both her and their little princess to be.

But she also knew she was never leaving this town without him again. Never again.

Putting characters through stressful situations has always been a coping mechanism for me - give them more pain than you're dealing with and work through it. Yes, I put Killian through a lot with this one and it certainly helps when you have an actor like Colin O'Donoghue who plays the angst so well that it's so easy to picture it in my head. As I mentioned in my earlier notes, I started writing this back in July and completed it in late November, but I went back and forth with myself as to whether I was going to post this online and finally decided that I would share it. This was my first ever story to exceed 50K words and while I did do some research regarding head injuries, I'm not in the medical field so please forgive any technical inaccuracies. Thankfully, fiction and fantasy give us some artistic leeway. Hope you enjoyed reading this and I look forward to sharing future tales with everyone!


	11. Epilogue

**The Recreant – epilogue**

 _Thursday – 7:14pm_

The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time Henry finished clearing all of the evening's dinner dishes - loading as much as he could into the dishwasher while letting the rectangular baking dish that his grandmother had brought over filled with lasagna soak in the sink. He knew it would need to be returned to her tomorrow because no amount of scrubbing had proven effective to remove the remnants of their meal from the stoneware. He'd done the best he could for now, but he secretly hoped that his mother would just magically poof away the baked on sauce and cheese. Wishful thinking perhaps, but if nothing else, he would let it remain here filled with water overnight and finish washing it before school tomorrow.

His grandparents had already departed for home a little before 7pm when an overly tired Neal got cranky and threw a kicking and screaming tantrum in the middle of the living room floor, yet even that display had taken place after Emma had politely excused herself and vanished upstairs. She hadn't really given any indication as to what was wrong but she'd barely touched her dinner. Maybe the stress of the past week had finally caught up, especially since all of those events had been pretty rough on her – and of course on Killian too. His stepfather had graciously thanked Snow White for making dinner for everyone and saw his in-laws off before he too headed upstairs to check on his wife. It wasn't like Emma to take off like that so Henry couldn't help but be a little concerned for his mother only he didn't want to pry.

With his ear buds still in place and music playing from his phone at a slightly too high volume, Henry hadn't noticed Killian had returned to the kitchen – at least he didn't notice before he felt a tap on his shoulder, then heard his stepfather asking "Almost finished with your chores?"

"Oh – yeah…," he replied, slightly shaken as he pulled one of the tiny headphones from his ear. "Just have to soak this one…"

"My apologies – I didn't intend to startle you," Killian stated as he pulled a chair away from the table. Henry assumed that the pirate was planning to sit down but instead, he gestured for the boy to take the offered seat. "You've done quite well enough for this evening. Have a seat for a moment, please?"

"Okay…," Henry responded, somewhat hesitant, fearing he might be in some sort of trouble. "What's up?"

"Your mother and I had planned to talk to you this evening together," Killian began as Henry complied with his request to take the offered chair. "However, since she isn't feeling well, she asked me if I'd speak to you myself."

"How's mom feeling? Everything is okay, right?"

"Your mother is fine. A little green around the gills, but nothing serious," the pirate chuckled, hoping a lighthearted tone would set the lad at ease.

"That's good," the boy sighed in relief. "I've never seen mom have quite that reaction to Grandma's cooking before."

"It may be some time before she chooses to set eyes on a lasagna again – although personally, I think it might have been that garlicky bread…"

"It was a little burnt, wasn't it?" Henry smiled, quickly changing the subject as he realized that this was not the intended direction of the conversation. "But I doubt that you're actually here to talk about dinner…"

"No, that was not my intent either," Killian said with a noticeable change in tone, becoming more serious as he pulled out a second chair and sat himself down at the end of the table. "Obviously, a lot has taken place in the past week – some things that you are aware of and perhaps a few things that you've not yet been made privy to. One of those subjects is what your mother and I had intended to inform you of this evening…"

"Can I spare you the long, drawn out explanation and just ask – is mom pregnant?" The interruption caught Killian off guard this time, freezing him mid-sentence. The question had been so blunt, not accusatory, but just out of the blue jarring, but the boy continued. "I'm really okay with it if she is - if you were worried about that..."

"Yes, your mother is with child," a stunned Killian replied. "Do I dare ask how you figured that out?"

"Well, Grandma started to say something at school the other day, but, to be honest I've been suspecting it for a few days. Like she's always in the bathroom and I'm really glad we have more than one… The clincher was her reaction to the lasagna though. I thought she was going to throw up right here at the table and it kinda struck me that no one thought it was strange..."

"Please don't let your mother hear you talking about vomiting. She's already quite self-conscious about everything – and feeling a tad guilty that we weren't able to share the news with you sooner."

"It's okay," Henry assured him. "It really is. I know a whole lot has happened in the past few days and it's been really difficult for everyone, but I'm happy it doesn't have to be a secret anymore. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a big brother."

"It will be a huge adjustment for all of us as we prepare for your sister's arrival and we both are counting on your support."

"Sister? You know already that it's a girl?"

Killian wasn't quite certain how he would answer that question – how much detail to impart, so he decided to defer the finer points of the story for the moment. "Suffice it to say that there may have been some divine intervention on our behalf, but yes – we're having a daughter."

"A little sister, huh? That's cool. And I'm just happy for you both."

"Thank you," Killian smiled, relieved that the announcement - well, confirmation of the lad's suspicions – had gone well, although he wasn't quite prepared for the direction their conversation would go next.

"Killian, can I ask you something while it's just the two of us talking?"

"Of course," the pirate responded with a mix of confusion and curiosity in his voice. "You're always welcome to come to me with any queries."

"Then you'll be honest with me about something?" he questioned to which Killian nodded a silent affirmative. "Do you have Merlin's powers?"

"Not exactly…," the pirate replied with a nervous chortle, his brain scrambling for the best possible explanation. He wasn't used to being caught unprepared for this many questions in one sitting.

"But you do have some magical powers from Excalibur?" the teen persisted.

"Aye – some that I've recently rediscovered…May I ask what brought about that question?"

"Well, earlier this week, I heard something hit the floor and you cursing at whatever it was. Considering all you've been through recently, I was worried you might need help but when I got upstairs, I saw a book rising up off the floor. I wasn't meaning to spy, but you didn't have the bedroom door closed all the way so…"

"Eavesdropping on a pirate, eh?" Killian teased with a devilish grin and one eyebrow raised in appreciation of the boy's audacity. "That can be quite a dangerous venture… Just what exactly did you happen to see?"

"It looked like you were practicing moving objects around like mom used to do – and not much better than she did at first." His honesty elicited a burst of laughter from his stepfather. "How long have you had those powers back?"

"It's a bit of a long story, but the magic never really left. I possessed it from the moment your mother used Excalibur to turn me into a Dark One. Thanks to Hades' tricks, I wasn't able to remember for quite some time that the bloody Crocodile had only stolen the dark magic."

"But you got your memories back?" Henry asked excitedly. "And you should have Merlin's light magic, right?"

"Aye – my memories have returned – again thanks to some divine intervention, however I'm fairly certain that those powers are shared with your mother because my abilities are rather limited - a few tricks here and there – just enough to prove a point, but that's about all. I've no desire for anything beyond this, nor have I any intention to use magic to further my needs. "

"And mom knows all of this?"

"Aye, she does – and we have our suspicions as to what may have become of the remainder of those powers from Excalibur…," Killian paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If we're correct, your infant sister could be born with magical powers the likes of which we've not encountered before. We just won't know for certain until she arrives, but we're already experiencing signs of it."

"Wait - you think the baby has magical powers already – even before she's born?"

"Let's just say that the first sign came after your other grandfather, Rumplestiltskin, attacked me in the hospital. Your mother received an SOS message on her talking phone alerting her that I was in danger, but it wasn't I who sent it."

"So you and mom think that the baby sent it somehow?" Henry was baffled as to how that could be possible, but then he quickly remembered that he lived in a place where impossible things were daily occurrences – including the fact that Killian was even here sitting beside him.

"It's a possibility that we're considering," Killian responded with a nod. "Only time will tell for certain and as you can imagine, your mother is worried enough. This isn't a revelation that we want to leave this house just yet."

"Wow…," was the only response the boy could muster but after a few speechless moments he added: "That will sure make things interesting around here…"

"Indeed – and I'm certain that you understand why we will not be saying anything to your grandmother about this subject…"

"She won't hear it from me!" Henry exclaimed with a wide grin.

"Good lad," Killian replied, grinning as broadly as his stepson. "Now is not the time to incite your mother's wrath." Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood up and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. "Leave the rest of those dishes for morning. I'll finish them up. I know you're anxious to go chat with Lady Violet."

"Just to be clear – I can finally tell her I'm going to be a big brother?"

"Yes – that news you're free to share." The words had barely passed from Killian's lips before Henry sprang to his feet and darted up the stairs to his room with a shouted thank you as he vanished from sight. Shaking his head, Killian pushed both chairs back beneath the table then turned off all of the downstairs lights – the un-magical way – before making his way back up to the second floor himself.

The master bedroom door still remained slightly ajar as he had left it so that he'd be able to hear should his wife have called out for him. He glanced in from the hallway, much in the same manner Henry had confessed to doing few days earlier to encounter him toying with magic, noticing that Emma was curled up on their bed with her back to him. He stood there just beholding her for a while, momentarily transfixed by the depth of his love for this woman. She was still clad in her clothing from dinner – save for the boots she had removed and tossed to the foot of the bed. Her crimson blouse had hiked up on her back, revealing a narrow strip of skin above the waistband of her denim trousers. Pale blonde locks spilled out over her pillow – and partially onto his, not that he minded. She was probably asleep and he was somewhat fearful of disturbing her if he dared push open the door with its squeaky hinge. So instead he just lingered there – his mind replaying their earlier conversation where she had informed him in a very perturbed fashion that she likely wouldn't be able to wear jeans for much longer as the swell of her belly was making them too tight. He couldn't fathom her frustration with her changing figure as to him, she had never looked more beautiful.

He would never know what it was that he'd done to deserve this woman, but he was eternally grateful for every second spent at her side and for all that had gone right in the world to bring them together. They had come from different realms – different eras. Nothing about their lives together made any sense and yet here they were – both part of a family that was expanding – a dream that neither would have envisioned just a few years earlier. Fate may not always have been kind, but it kept bringing them back to each other and now, in this latest chapter of their story, fate would soon bring them a daughter - a daughter who could prove to be a powerful sorceress if their supposition was confirmed, but as with everything else they'd encountered thus far, they would learn ways to face that battle together.

After all, at the end of the day, they were just a princess and a pirate who were still writing their fairy tale – still believing that their happy ending would be never ending.


End file.
